


The Mechanic and the Professor

by CopperMask (Hard_boiled_candy)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Frottage, Humor, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Instant relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Protective Sam Winchester, Schmoop, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Young person suicide, not a main character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 15:18:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hard_boiled_candy/pseuds/CopperMask
Summary: AU Cas has lost his job, car, boyfriend and Dad in eight months. A new job as a professor of Classics at the university in Lawrence KS is the first piece of good luck he's had in ages. Then he meets Dean Winchester, which is in a special category  of good luck.





	The Mechanic and the Professor

Castiel Novak had not been happy to move to Lawrence, KS, but jobs in university classics departments were uncommon and he preferred to use his PhD for something more research-oriented than bartending and cab driving, both of which he’d done during university. He had no desire to do either ever again.

It was now two weeks before the start of class, the second Thursday in August, and he was working through his to-do list with dogged persistence.

Apart from landing this job at KU, this entire last year had shot to the top of the charts as the worst year of his life. His beloved 1994 Ford Probe GT Special Edition had been totalled by his asshole boyfriend, simultaneously revealing his side-piece, as they were both taken to hospital and Cas had the rare treat of being asked by Balthazar about that when he woke up. Cas had spent three brutal days in the family waiting room of the ICU at Duke University Hospital.His exact words were, “What happened to Paulie? Aw, don’t be mad, Cas!”

He wasn’t angry. He was sad, he was depressed, he was disappointed; but mostly, he was done.

There had been the weeks of waiting for the blood tests to come back ensuring that Balthazar, and his apparently very busy penis, hadn’t given him an STI. He’d packed Balthazar’s stuff, the masses of crap accumulated in the eight years they’d lived in Raleigh. He’d been so tempted to torch it all, but he just wasn’t willing to destroy himself over someone like Balthazar.

More or less by himself, he moved Balthazar’s stuff into a storage locker. Their joint account was frozen after a major screw-up with the bank, and he was forced to clean out all the beer bottles for lunch money. He learned that many of their mutual friends thought he was being too hard on poor Balthazar, “such a sweet guy”, leading to the sad realization that he had no friends worth the name, and had no reason to be in Raleigh after the two tenure track positions he was pursuing stopped being funded.

Cas’ savings had mostly gone for Balthazar’s hospital bills, and that money had vanished before he realized what a sap he was for taking any responsibility for the consequences flowing from Balthazar’s lies. They weren’t married. They didn’t have a registered domestic partnership. He was being nice to a creep, and that made him a pathetic moron.

In the middle of the nightmare, his dad died.

He’d had to give up the apartment during the slow motion catastrophe that overtook his life and his finances after the accident. Balthazar was still in a physical rehab facility (his wealthy parents were paying for that) when Cas got on the bus to go back to Illinois for his dad’s funeral; he didn’t even say goodbye to him, and had switched over to a burner phone to dodge Balthazar’s increasingly bizarre and morose phone calls.

 

He hung out with his mom, who for once was glad to see him and didn’t spend any time criticizing his life choices. Castiel helped her clean out the house since his two older siblings couldn’t - Luke was drying out in rehab, again, and Anna’s oldest daughter had killed herself because of an internet stalker. It felt like the family was imploding. No-one wanted to answer the phone.

Putting his childhood trinkets in boxes and taking them to the dump was not how he’d meant to spend his summer. _Nobody gives a shit about the Latin prize I won when I was fifteen,_ he thought.

His mom was tired of mowing and shovelling and cranky furnaces and sump pumps. She was sad to give up the idea of the house. The reality of it was full of memories and work she couldn't bend to do. Her children could visit her just as easily in the seniors’ building they’d already talked about moving into before his dad got sick.

She cried a lot, which was exhausting, but she was hopeful too, which was almost as exhausting, because she was genuinely looking forward to bingo and card nights with her friends, and that made him think: Friends.

 _Friends_.

It would have been nice to have _had_ some.

Against his normal inclination, and for no reason but pure loneliness, he had a couple of borderline scary or ‘meh’ encounters through Grindr, and if it hadn’t been for the idea that his family could not deal with another suicide, or a family death of any kind, he might have offed himself.

The job offer at KU had possibly saved his life.

Kansas wasn’t great, and God, the summer temperatures were on a par with the front gate of Hell, just like Raleigh had been, but Lawrence was a little enclave of Democrats and queerfolk and academics. If he managed to find a date, and more miraculously yet, a boyfriend, he’d at least be able to walk down the street holding hands with him without getting curb-stomped. Or so he piously hoped. At this juncture he’d settle for necking and a quick hand job in the back of a car, he was so starved for anything resembling affection.

Further to which, he finally had a car to neck in. His dad’s gold ’78 Lincoln Continental was not the vehicle he would have chosen for himself, but he could pay for a vehicle or insurance, not both, and so the Grampa-mobile was how he was going to roll for the time being.

Castiel couldn’t believe what a gas hog it was, even after The Diva, his affectionate name for the Probe. His dad had kept the Lincoln in pristine shape, but it was old and feeling decades of Illinois winter salt; the hoses and wiring harnesses were all marginal; it was getting intermittent electrical problems, so much so that at one point he began to be convinced that the vehicle was haunted.

That was ludicrous, of course.

Castiel found a garage in Lawrence.He noted, with approval, a discreet rainbow flag decal under the list of payment methods accepted on the front door. He dropped off the car and its service records first thing in the morning with one of the apprentices and ran errands by bus until he got the call that the car was ready for pickup.

The garage was open until 7. He just barely made it in before the place closed.

The cheerful youth in coveralls who’d taken the keys was gone, and in his place at the service desk was a stunningly gorgeous man in his late thirties, wearing a dark grey short-sleeved henley under blue overalls embroidered with the logo of the garage, DB Auto Repairs.

He looked up and gave a glancing, professional smile, before he bent his head over his service request forms and said, “Be with you in two shakes.”

I’d sure like you to shake something, Cas thought, nodding, since he couldn’t talk. He felt his breath leaking out slowly.

That voice sounded like sex in a jar. The muscled forearms and broad, competent-looking hands did not detract at all from the initial, electric impression. 

The mechanic looked up again, and Castiel tried, unsuccessfully, not to stare. After five intense seconds during which Cas felt his innards jump around as he realized, _Mother of God, his eyes really are that green,_ he looked away and said, “Someone phoned and said the Lincoln’s ready.”

The mechanic gave himself a tiny shake. “It is, but I doubt you’ll thank us.We took care of the items on your list, but the water pump is gonna crap out soon.”

“What do you advise?” Castiel asked. Anything to keep hearing that voice.

There was a deep chuckle, that seemed to originate from the ground itself, and migrate into Castiel’s bones. “Since you don’t seem to be a mechanic, my advice is to sell it and get something that won’t kill you on repairs.”

Castiel looked at him sadly. “Kind of broke at the moment. I had a car, an older sports car, but my boyfriend crashed it while driving his rent boy around, and then my dad died and I got his car.” _TMI plus I’m babbling, I’m babbling._

“All in the last little while?” the mechanic asked, genuine concern on his face. He didn’t bobble at the mention of a boyfriend, so the little rainbow flag had not been there for nothing.

“All in the last eight months. Oh, and I lost my job and any prospects in Raleigh and Balthazar’s hospital bills eviscerated my savings.”

“Eviscerated? Now there’s a word you don’t hear every day. You a professor or something?”

“Just hired on to teach Classics at KU.”

The mechanic smiled, and the butterflies turned into kittens, gamboling in Castiel’s chest and stomach. “My baby bro wants to teach law at Stanford, how’s that for ambitious?”

“More ambitious than I am,” Castiel said, honestly. “I’d settle for obscurity and a steady job.”

The mechanic stood and held out his hand, “Dean Winchester. Welcome to Lawrence, ‘From Ashes to Immortality’.”

At Castiel’s puzzled expression, his smile broadened. A kitten did an adorable backflip right behind Castiel’s sternum. “Town motto.”

“Really?” Cas took Dean’s hand and said, “Castiel Novak, pleasure to meet you, Dean.”

Dean hung onto his hand about half a second longer than he should have, and Castiel sat, suddenly, in what he hoped was not too obvious an effort to hide his inconveniently timed erection. That hand had been warm, and muscular, and dry and, well, it wasn’t too hard to think about what he might be able to do with it. Castiel looked around the room, since being less than a yard away from those big green eyes was making him feel fluttery.

Dean, frowning just a trifle, re-took his seat and began to review the bill. “It’s only five hundred and fifty bucks this time, but honestly, Mr. Novak –“

“Castiel - or Cas, please.”

“Okay, Cas.Sell that thing and get something befitting a man of your obvious class and intelligence.” The voice was teasing and serious at the same time, how did he do that?

“My last car was a 1994 Ford Probe Special Edition called The Diva,” Castiel said. It was a vehicle that indicated neither class nor intelligence, at least to most of the mechanics he’d ever talked to.

Dean was no exception. He chuckled. His face lit up in genuine amusement, and Castiel felt himself making heart eyes at him.

“That is a truly _horrifying_ car to work on,” Dean said, not noticing that Cas was looking at him as if he was something particularly yummy and choice. “The engine compartment’s so overstuffed with, like, everything. God, I’m almost happy your boyfriend crashed it, so I won’t ever have to touch it.”

That wasn’t really funny, not to Cas, who still missed The Diva and mourned the humiliating manner of her loss, but to make Dean laugh like that, it might have been worth it. He gave a pained smile.

Dean read the reason for the pain with an ease that set the kittens skittering around Castiel’s rib-cage again.

“Aw man, I’m sorry. We all have our own special car.” He waved at a black Impala sitting in the side yard of the garage.

“That yours?” Cas said, frowning a trifle and turning to try to get a better angle on it through the glass door.

“That - is Baby. Inherited from my Dad, and it needs pretty much constant work so it’s fortunate I was born with a wrench in my hand.”

“Sounds inconvenient for your mother,” Castiel said.

Dean cracked up again. “Are you always this funny?”

“Nobody thinks I’m funny,” Castiel said stolidly.

“I’m not funny either – when I’m asking for money,” Dean said.

“Right. Five hundred and fifty dollars.” Castiel produced a credit card and Dean ran it.

“Money I don’t have for a car I don’t want,” Castiel sighed.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ve made me very, very happy.”

The sexy undertone was impossible to ignore.

Oh. This is flirting.

He raised one eyebrow in mock disdain. “I’m not consoled.”

“Tell you what,” Dean said. He pushed the last of the work orders into his top drawer, got out a key and locked the office, got out two more keys and locked down the garage, and said, “Since we can no longer be interrupted, I declare it beer o’clock and I will indulge myself as a self-employed man by asking an honoured customer to join me in brewskis.”

Cas watched him lock up with a hope twinned with horror.

_Oh, my God, I’m alone with him. I mean I was before but if I felt like, if we felt like…. Just be cool. Look happy._

Castiel tried to give the most genuine smile possible. “After a day of chasing down paperwork and looking at apartments, most of which are places I couldn’t call home, I really didn’t want to move. The prospect of sitting for a while and drinking a beer out of this heat sounds most welcome,” Castiel said.

Dean went to the mini-fridge at the back of the shop, pulled out two beers, popped them, and handed one to Castiel. Their fingers touched briefly and Castiel pretended not to notice. They sat back down in the office, but this time Dean was sitting on the same side of the desk.

“So what do you teach?”

“History of Western Philosophy and Greek and Latin.”

“Do you ever say, ‘it’s all Greek to me’?”

“I say it all the time, but nobody laughs. I suppose I could pay the students to laugh but the administration generally frowns on it.”

Dean shrugged. Then there was a teasing glint. “If I look you up on ‘rate my prof’, what will I find?”

“A lot of sophomores who think I’m rather cute and very progressive, but possibly one of the most boring profs they’ve ever had,” Castiel said.

“Never read the comments,” Dean said, saluting him with his beer.

“I bet you’ve printed out your worst Yelp reviews,” Castiel said flatly.

Dean leaned forward to clink the neck of Castiel’s beer with the other. He was snorting with laughter.

“Where’d I put it,” he said with an evil smile, getting up. He put his beer on his desk and then while Cas’s balls squirmed around and his dick got even harder, he bent over a filing cabinet and gave Cas a fifty yard line view of his ass, which even through overalls was spectacular.

“Oh, I remember,” he said, and pulled out a manila file folder labelled “People fucking hate us.”

He solemnly handed it over to Cas, who opened it and read, in his most pompous voice, “The most incompetent and dangerous mechanic in Lawrence.”

“That’s me, how’d’ja like me so far?” Dean posed.

“I have no evidence that this is true, or false for that matter.” Castiel returned it.

Dean said, “I warned you about the water pump. You can go to another garage now, and get it done cheaper. I did warn you.”

“Maybe you don’t want to work on that car. It can’t be as much fun as your Baby.”

“Baby is a sacred trust. Your car is …”

“Not,” Cas said, flatly. “Don’t worry, that I inherited it from my dad makes no difference.”

He changed the subject slightly. “You know, I could commute to work by bus, if I got the right apartment. If the car starts to cost too much money, I’ll let it go. Maybe a high school wants it for a shop class. Maybe I’ll drive it off a bridge. I don’t know.”

“You’re not feeling like harming yourself are you?” Dean said. He seemed perturbed.

“That was hyperbole. I haven’t thought about killing myself since I got the job offer,” Cas said. _Boy, you sure know how to come on to a guy super smooth don’t you Cassie baby._

“Jeez,” Dean said. “How long were you with your last boyfriend?”

“Eight years. Loyal to a fault, I guess.” Cas finally looked directly in Dean’s eyes.

Dean looked even more perturbed. “How is loyalty a fault?”

 _Oh Dean. I wish I could tell you how happy you made me by saying that._ “If you have no sense of where to put your trust, loyalty can make you evil’s stooge,” Castiel said. He tried not to sound bitter, and he was mostly successful.

“Guy sounds like a prince,” Dean said. He tipped his beer up.

“Well educated, well spoken, rather good looking. I hadn’t been out for long and I’m not a ….” Castiel fell silent. “Hell, he was even a lapsed Catholic, which given that he was English, made him a rare commodity.”

“Did he have a pretty accent?”

_No prettier than yours, you steamy hunk o’ pure awesome._

“I thought so. Until he lied to me once too often.”

“And ex-Catholic,” Dean said. “Kinky.”

“I studied for the priesthood for two years; it still mattered when I met him. You know – still trying to please my mother, even though she took to her bed when I came out.”

Dean grunted an acknowledgment of this, then said, “You came out late?”

“Everything good takes time, I’m told,” Castiel said. “I was twenty-eight.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and then looked thoughtful. He saluted Castiel with his beer bottle again.

“Can I come out to you?” Dean asked. He sounded hesitant, almost shy. Castiel had never experienced a man’s voice so viscerally.

“About what?” Castiel said slowly.

The shyness vanished into teasing again. “My orientation, like we were just talking about, silly.”

Heart pounding, voice soft, Castiel said, “Feel free.”

“Oh, I will, if I can, later,” Dean said, sounding delighted. Castiel’s dick sent a signal that the quarters currently housing it were inadequate and deplorably lacking in good ventilation.

Dean continued, “But you seem 100% gay, and I’m bi. And for the most part, I’m not out.”

There was a long pause. Castiel considered what he should say next, and said, “Can I come out to you?”

Dean was not expecting that. “I thought you did, when you said ‘boyfriend’.”

“There’s always more.”

“If you tell me something kinky I’m probably going to start laughing,” Dean said. “To deflect that I am really kinda easily embarrassed.”

“I’m demisexual.”

Dean looked blank, and then apologetic. “Oh god. This is what comes of fucking men and not being political.What the heck does demisexual mean? You got chunks missing from your ass?”

Castiel envisioned Dean biting his ass and squirmed in his chair a couple of times, while it creaked in disapproval.

“It’s somebody who has a very hard time having sex with somebody they don’t know very well. The way I like to put it, I need to feel that a profound bond exists between me and my potential partner before I –“

“Give up the goods,” Dean interrupted cynically. “Musta freaked you out when I locked us in here,” he added.

“Oh, I was flattered,” Castiel said.

“Flattered,” Dean said. Castiel stole a glance at him. Dean was expressionless.

“You could go home, but you wanted to have a beer and talk to me uninterrupted,” Castiel said.

Dean looked as though he changed his mind about what he was going to say about halfway through that sentence. “It’s not like it’s easy to get people to stay, even if there is beer. Most people get in their cars and drive away, thrilled that they have a working vehicle again,” Dean pointed out.

Castiel thought aloud. “I could do that, but I’m not anxious to go back to the motel. My stuff won’t arrive for another two days but that still means I have less than two days to arrange a place to put it and people to unload it. My credit card is white hot and I won’t get paid for almost another month. I do not know a soul here besides the staff liaison, my department head, the motel clerks and you. I haven’t had a home cooked meal since I left Illinois –“

“That, I can fix,” Dean said, interrupting again. “I got four pork chops marinating in the fridge at home, corn and gazpacho too.”

Castiel put his hands between his knees and almost looked horrified. “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”

Dean looked sly again, then smug. “You tell me how broke and lonely you are and you won’t let me feed you? What kind of Christian would I be?”

“I don’t know, Dean. What kind of Christian are you?” Castiel asked, wide-eyed.

“Non-denominational,” Dean said, straight-faced. “I thought it paired well with being bi.”

Castiel found himself sputtering with laughter. He wasn’t given to laughing out loud. Dean’s index finger tapped the back of his hand. There was a feeling like electricity, all around where he’d touched.

“To accept help with thanks is the mark of an adult,” Castiel said. “I’d be honoured to join you for a meal at your house.”

“Thanks, I think. Are you always this formal?” Dean said.

“Why, I barely know you,” Cas said. He put his nose in the air in self-mockery.

“How would you be if you knew me well, I ask myself,” Dean said.

_On you like flies on shit._

“Less formal,” Castiel said aloud.

“How much less formal?” Dean teased.

“I might say ain’t, and use the wrong fork,” Castiel said, trying to sound over-prim.

Dean was obviously struggling not to laugh. “I was hoping even less formal than that.”

“I might say ‘Fuck, yeah!’ and drink orange juice from the carton,” Castiel said.

“God, you’re such a rebel,” Dean said.

“I know, I’m very proud of myself,” Cas said, mostly for making Dean smile at him like that.

“Finish your beer, there’s more at home.”

Dean said he lived about five minutes from the shop by car, two blocks from a bus stop. Castiel considered that he might drink enough to necessitate a bus or tax ride home, and the motel was on a bus route, so he relaxed a little bit.

If Dean turned out to be an axe-murderer, even the most incompetent cops would eventually question Dean as being the last person to run his credit card, so he felt reasonable safe from personal harm, or contemplated grimly that at least he might get justice.

And there was more than the faint hope and possibility that this incredibly cool and good-looking man would want to hold him in his arms after doing something really sexy, like breathe, or show off his wrench collection. Castiel, who did not chug, finished eight ounces of beer with fratworthy haste.

He paid for his speed with an unexpected and extremely resonant belch.

Dean cracked up and said, “Manly,” in his deepest voice. In a lighter, more cajoling voice, he said, “C’mon, we got about an hour before sunset and the deck’s nice and shady this time of day.”

Dean locked up the garage. “Follow me,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows. Castiel followed the rumble of the Impala down the road with anticipation singing just under his skin.

 

Dean, said, “Welcome to my messy home.” Castiel thought to himself how he simply didn’t have the confidence to bring a total stranger into his house, and wished he could be as self-possessed and unflappable as Dean appeared to be.

The door opened on a clean, comfortable and low-key ground floor suite in an older home. There was an enormous reproduction of a Led Zeppelin logo on one of the living room walls, the one of a man with wings, falling, except it looked different somehow. He put his head on one side, trying to place what was different about it. Dean saw the expression on his face and Castiel caught the smile, but didn’t understand it. “I live on the ground floor. There’s a unit upstairs; I rent it out since Sam left town - ten years now.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“You sounded proud of him when you were talking about him.”

“He’s the non-fuck-up in the family.” Dean went to the fridge and fetched two more beers.

“You own your own business and, er, what-not, I don’t see how you’re a fuck-up,” Castiel said.

“When your little brother’s married with a little boy and a little girl and a fox of a wife with her own career? I’m wondering what the hell happened.”

“You got old and tired,” Castiel said daringly. Dean made a face at him. He followed Dean out to the deck, where he fired up the barbecue.

“I ran out of potential partners, more like,” Dean said. “Anybody I liked enough to settle down with wasn’t interested in me for the long haul.” He sounded bitter.

“I don’t mean to pry, but may I know what happened?”

Dean sighed. He shut the lid on the barbecue and turned and leaned against the deck railing, beer in hand. “The single mom I came within three weeks of marrying decided at the last minute me being bi was a deal-killer, and she was worried about her little boy. So I haven’t seen my little buddy except at a distance at the mall since we broke up, and don’t mock me! – but I miss that mutt of hers, too. The guy I almost moved in with decided at the last minute me being bi was a deal-killer. Sensing a pattern? And you know what, they both said exactly the same thing, almost word for word, ‘How do I know you won’t get bored and cheat on me?’”

“They assumed you were a cheater.”

“Yup.”

“Are you?”

Dean looked at him with a frown. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I think when I’m interested in someone I tell them I’m bi right away so I don’t waste their time,” Dean said.

“You told me about fifteen minutes ago,” Castiel said, indicating with his thumb where he thought the garage was.

“Oh,” he said, after a brief, embarrassing pause. “Are you…”

“Interested? Jesus man, I don’t think you have any clue how attractive you are.”

Castiel looked at him and then looked away. “I’m really, really, flattered. I think you’re really attractive too.”

Dean joked, but there was a serious undertone, “You’d better not be saying that just because I’m feeding you.”

“You haven’t fed me yet,” Castiel pointed out. _Is he feeling shy again? He’s the gorgeous one._

“Ri-i-ight. I can fix that.”

“I bet you can fix ‘most anything,” Castiel said.

“At the moment my ambitions are less grandiose; I’ll fix you some gazpacho.”

They ate at the kitchen island. The gazpacho was superb, deliciously cool on the tongue with enough of a spicy kick to be interesting.

Castiel was starving, but he ate slowly and with the occasional sigh of appreciation over how good it was. They chatted about trifles as they ate.

Dean finished long before he did. Castiel raised his eyes to see Dean looking at him with affectionate amusement. Castiel felt his heart stop, and then jerk back into a sped-up beat.

“You squeaked,” Dean said.

“I beg your pardon?” Castiel said, truly not comprehending.

“You squeaked like a little animal, all excited about his food,” Dean said.

“It was worth getting excited about,” Castiel said, gesturing at his empty bowl with both hands. “I’m embarrassed if I sounded rude or greedy.”

“Mm.” Dean said. Very unexpectedly, he said, “May I kiss you?”

Stricken, Castiel looked at him, and had to breathe before he said, “I guess.”

Dean put his weight back in his chair and said, softly, “I kinda need enthusiastic consent.”

Castiel drew another, more ragged breath, and said, “…please?”

Dean was on him so fast that he had a chance to blink once, and that was it. It wasn’t rough, but it was very deliberate and very intentional and very skilled. There was a little bit of garlic in there, too. Castiel closed his eyes and surrendered, leaning into it and praying that Dean was enjoying himself. He was sweaty without smelling particularly dirty. It was so exhilarating, and there were so many senses begging for attention at once, that Cas felt borne away into the air. Dean pulled away with a sticky little sigh and held him close, but not oppressively so. For a magical second Castiel felt his heart thunder in time with Dean’s; their breathing and pulse synced up and he felt their bodies rocking together in a fine tremor.

“Wow,” Dean said. He shifted on his feet.

“Wow,” Castiel agreed.

“I’m going to put the chops and the corn on,” Dean said. He had to take a breath in the middle of the sentence. He nuzzled Castiel’s ear and his warm breath sent a shiver through him. He slid his hands down Castiel’s back and pulled his ass in closer. Cas tried to slow his breathing down and couldn’t, because their dicks appeared to be trying to exchange contact info through their pants. Castiel dropped his hands to Dean’s ass and lifted his face for another kiss.

Dean rested his forehead against his and looked into his eyes. “Oh God,” he said helplessly.

“You can call me Cas,” Castiel said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Cas, you have to let go of my ass now,” Dean said.

“No-o-o!” Cas said, whining like a small child.Dean’s subdued laugh echoed through him. Cas ground against him once and let go.

Dean whirled through the kitchen. “Grab the beers,” he said over his shoulder after he collected the rest of the food on a tray. He arranged the chops and the corn and closed the lid on the barbecue.

They sat across from each other at the little picnic table on the deck and drank their beer in a silence which stretched out for a couple of minutes. Castiel tried to hold Dean’s gaze but had to keep looking away.

“Are we okay?” Dean said.

Cas pretended to misunderstand and mimed checking his pulse.

“Still a little elevated… how ‘bout you?”

“Kinda speechless.”

“Me too.”

“I’m really glad you came into the shop today,” Dean said.

“Me too.”

“Pick a topic of conversation,” Dean said. “I’m not thinking very clearly at the moment.”

Castiel tried to find a neutral topic. “Where would you recommend looking for an apartment?”

Dean sighed with relief. “It’s a really crappy time of year to be looking… most of the good places are taken by the first of August, unless you’re looking at something pricey. What do you want?”

“Not to have to look too hard.” _Candidly, Dean, I’d like to have all of my stuff delivered here, but I can’t see you going for it._

“I’ll keep my ears open, for sure. On the bus route,” Dean said.

“Yeah,” Cas said. “Like this place, close to a main artery but quiet.”

“Like this place? Seriously?”

“Well, it would only be twenty minutes, and I wouldn’t have to park a car on campus, which is always a pain no matter how you try to game the system. I was forty minutes in a car in Raleigh and I loathed the commute, plus The Diva hated stop-and-go traffic. Something like this would be perfect.”

“Got a minute to look at the apartment upstairs?”

“What?” Cas said in astonishment.

“My tenant moved out a week ago,” Dean said. “I’ve been busy and not wanting to deal with the crush of last minute students, so I haven’t advertised it.”

Cas goggled at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding. What happened to the tenant?”

There was a little flicker of amusement. As quick as he saw it, it was gone. “He’s buried in the back yard,” Dean said, grimly.

He must have been the class clown.

“I’m sure he had it coming,” Castiel said, with equal grimness.

Dean cracked up. “He got the job offer of a lifetime in Chicago and hauled up stakes. Left most of his furniture, too, so the place doesn’t show empty. I had a cleaning company through but that’s all I’ve managed, that and emptying the fridge, since he forgot that little detail in his haste to book it.” Dean looked disgusted. “It was gross, man; I don’t deal well with shit like that.”

He paused and looked at Cas with speculation which was tinged with desire.

“Anyway, wanna see it or not?”

“Sure,” Cas said. “If it’s a dump or too expensive I can always say no.” Dean gave him a _WTF, dude?_ look, shrugged and they climbed the stairs.

When they got to the top of the landing, Cas pushed Dean into a bookshelf and kissed him. The bookshelf rocked and ten pounds of vintage porn magazines slithered onto their heads and shoulders and onto the floor all around them.

Cas looked down and snickered. Dean made a choking noise and guffawed.

Cas sat on the floor to try and collect them into a pile. Both of them were laughing so hard they could neither talk nor move very fast in collecting up the mags, one of which was called Twink City and another of which was called Busty Asian Beauties. They were all quite – well-loved.

“If you hadn’t told me you were bi,” Cas said, hiccuping with laughter and banging his head against the banisters, “I think this is the point at which that great light would have dawned.”

“These are my tenant’s, I swear to god,” Dean croaked.

“No, they aren’t,” Cas said, with withering disbelief.

“No… Why’d you kiss me?”

“‘Cause I really couldn’t help it.”

Dean looked almost stricken, as if that hadn’t been the right answer, and Cas felt the smile die on his lips.

“What? Dean, what?”

“Tell you what,” Dean said, looking at the floor. “You can look at the apartment, I’ll police up the porn, and then go check on dinner.”

“Okay,” Cas said. _What did I do? Does he always have to initiate? What did I do wrong? What’s happening? Should I have gotten enthusiastic consent? I thought that was taken care of? Oh my God, I’m so fucking clueless._

Dean opened the door, expressionless. He said, “Show yourself around and come downstairs whenever,” and left him.

The air conditioning was turned off, and the place was close. Cas sighed and shook himself, and checked to make sure it was working, since that was a deal killer. Cold, metallic air streamed into the room.

It was clean. It was enormous. He loved the windows.

It had its own deck, small, and uncovered, but he could get an awning.

It was absolutely perfect. But on the basis of how Dean was acting, he no longer thought it was a good idea. He turned the air conditioning off.

“So, wha’d’ja think?”

“May I know how much it is?”

Dean named a price at least two hundred dollars a month below market rent, maybe more.

“That’s a little on the low side,” Castiel said suspiciously.

“I charge less than market to keep good tenants. I’ve only had three in ten years.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. “Did I say something or do something – wrong – up there?”

“No,” Dean said. He busied himself at the barbecue and turned his back on Cas.

“You shut down. We were laughing and goofing around and your body language went all stiff and weird.”

“I’m freaking out,” Dean said.

“I’m freaking out too, but it doesn’t make me want to stop talking to you.”

“I’m not much of a talker,” Dean said.

“Well, tough shit, you’ll have to talk me down, cause I’m worrying you don’t like me.”

Dean whipped around. He came straight to the table and sat down.

“I like you fine. Why do you like me?”

Castiel said, with polite disbelief, “The best looking man I ever met in my life is fishing for compliments. Dean Winchester, do you have self-esteem issues? Huh, let’s see what I can come up with. Honest, funny, an amazing cook, kisses like something in the movies, intelligent, thoughtful, organized, self-disciplined and so hot I’m having trouble looking at you, because when I do I don’t want to stop.”

“You’ve got a PhD,” Dean said miserably.

“In dead languages, and I get mocked for it all the time. Besides, a kind heart is worth a hundred PhDs. Don’t sell yourself short,” Cas said.

“Are you really okay with me being bi, because I need to hear you say it – if you can.”

“If I can? Fine, let’s do this. You being bi affects you. Unless you insist on having sex with women in front of me it won’t affect me. Next deal killer? Why don’t we get it all out of the way at once?”

Dean said, pouting, “You can’t drive Baby unless it’s an emergency.”

“Okay; I already know the car’s like a pet – with an oil leak. But while we’re being all noble and candid, I just wanted to let you know that I wear pyjamas.”

“That’s it, we’re done here,” Dean said, but Cas saw the smirk before he got up and went back the barbecue.

“What? Pyjamas? Or the crack about your car?”

“I could never be involved with a man who wears pyjamas to bed.”

“I could change over to an old fashioned night-shirt if it’s instant access to my ass you’re worried about,” Castiel said, daring Dean to turn around.

Dean’s hand, gripping the tongs, froze for a second over the barbecue.

Castiel pressed on. “Are we heading in that direction of asses in bed or was my revelation about my pyjamas your moment of truth? I mean, I wear two hundred dollar monogrammed french-seamed organic cotton pjs in a color matching my eyes.”

“Bullshit, nothing could match your eyes,” Dean said, apparently without thinking first.

“Reasonably close, then,” Cas said, hugging the implied compliment and tucking it away for further examination later.

“I can’t imagine letting you wear them for any length of time, let’s put it that way,” Dean said.

“Can we table that? Maybe you should hold off having an opinion… they might be such a boner-killer that there’s no point continuing this discussion.”

“Shut up and eat your dinner and watch the sunset with me.” Dean plated the corn and chops and brought them to the table. He sat next to him. Crowded him a little, actually.

“Bossy!” said Castiel. “The smell’s been driving me crazy, by the way.”

“Bossy? My house, my rules! And thanks, you smell terrific too.”

Another compliment. “Well, if I’m going to be living here, I should know those rules.”

“About that.” That voice in his ear.

 _Oh, no; you’re not getting out of this._ “I can provide references. I had the same place for six years in Raleigh; my landlady literally cried, the day I moved out.”

Dean said, “I’m sure you’re the best tenant in American history, but I have the hots for you so bad you might find it, I don’t know, a little much.”

“The last time anybody had the hots for me I had to pay him for the make believe. The cuddles were real enough, I guess.”

“Harsh. The last time I had sex he told me that bisexual men are gay men who hate themselves too much to admit it, and not to call him again until I realized I was gay.”

“Holy shit,” Cas said blankly.

“Yup.”

“I believe you. If you say you’re bi, when everything in your life says to stay quiet about it, I’m not going to tarnish your courage by telling you you’re lying – or somehow mistaken, as if you can control what you feel sexy about.”

“Shush. Eat,” Dean said.

Castiel, who’d been taught to eat slowly and reverently, for the glory of God, watched Dean throw down his food like a starving animal. He was long since done, and thoughtfully picking corn out of his teeth when Cas reached into his pocket, pulled out a little box full of plaque removers, and offered Dean one.

“You carry these around?”

“I hate having stuff stuck in my teeth that badly,” Castiel said.

“You’re kind of a fussbudget, aren’t you?”

“You’re kind of a wild man, aren’t you?” Cas riposted.

Dean at least turned away from the table as he worked his teeth over. Cas shook his head to himself and kept eating. He thought of what Balthazar might say of this scene, his horror at this barbaric brute in overalls. He turned a giggle into a cough.

Dean said, turning back to the table with obvious relief, and giving him a friendly jolt with his shoulder, “Man, I should start carrying these around. I hate having stuff stuck in my teeth too.”

“Keep the box, I have another one in my suit jacket pocket.”

“Wow.”

“I told you, I really hate it.”

They cleared the plates and went inside.

“So,” Dean said. “I gotta be at work at eleven tomorrow, but I usually spend the morning doing paperwork at home, or other tiresome chores.”

“I should go back to my motel,” Cas said, more or less to see what Dean would say.He didn’t want to look like too much of a pushover.

“Right now?” Dean said, obviously panicking. “I was just checking what you were doing tomorrow morning.”

“Because I’m staying the night?”

Dean played the clown again. “Hey if the Magic Fingers at the motel room works better for you than my king-sized memory foam bed, which, hint hint, will have me snoring in it, I’m all for you getting what you need.”

Castiel looked at him. Over the course of five seconds, Dean’s face shifted from casual joking to earnest appeal, and then to a flicker of desperation.

“What’s for breakfast?” Cas asked. It wasn’t fair to leave him hanging.

“Bacon, toast, waffles, hashbrowns and eggs?”

“I usually start the day with oatmeal and fresh fruit.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a health fiend,” Dean said. He slumped pathetically, and Cas patted him awkwardly on the shoulder

“I love having a boyfriend to nag about his colon-destroying dietary habits. How many caffeinated beverages do you drink each day?” Cas asked solemnly, but there was a twinkle in his eye, which made Dean smirk.

“Have I been upgraded to boyfriend already?” Dean asked. He rubbed his eyes in an exaggerated way and said, “I don’t remember that conversation.”

Cas said, “It sounded great in my head! You agreed enthusiastically, but you’re worried about telling your mom.”

“My mom?” Dean leaned back and laughed, putting his hands up to his head and showing off his biceps like a peacock spreads his tail feathers. “She’ll bring wine and cupcakes! Probably more wine than cupcakes, but yeah, she’d be over the moon if she met you. And that’ll be nothin’ compared to what Sam and Jess are likely to pull; they’ll be checking into skywriters and prime time advertising.”

“You’ve only known me –“ Cas looked at his watch. It was a little after nine-thirty. They’d known each other less than three hours.

“Yeah, about that. Just let me know if things are going too fast.” Dean put his hand on Cas’s forearm and looked at him earnestly.

Cas looked back and tried, and failed, to keep a straight face.It was twenty seconds before they stopped hooting with laughter.

“I should have just pulled up here with the U-Haul, but of course _I_ had to ship it by rail,” Cas said, pretending to be glum.

Cas found himself sitting on the sofa with Dean’s nose buried in the hair above his ear. Dean said, in a husky whisper, “Yeah, it was kinda inconvenient that you had to meet me first, and go through my extensive vetting process.”

It was getting hard to breathe again. “How about mine? ‘Good kisser, can keep my car running’.”

“What if the sex is terrible?” Dean said.

Cas said, “Will we care, if we’re only having sex once a week anyway?”

“Once a week? Once a week? What the hell, dude!” Dean jerked away from him and looked at Cas as if he’d gone utterly mad.

Cas explained. “That’s what me and Balthazar were down to at the time of the accident, and he made me feel lucky to get it. Of course he was having sex with two of our mutual friends at the time, as well as partying with a succession of paid companions, so he didn’t have as much for me.”

“Dick. I think we’re going to have the opposite problem.”

“The ‘case lots of Astroglide’ kind of problem?”

Dean very, very gently nipped Cas’s earlobe. “I’ve got enough for whatever shenanigans you have planned for tonight, if any.”

“Shenanigans! I’ll have you know my last boyfriend said I was a prudish stick-in-the-mud with the sex drive of a hibernating sloth.”

There was a little bit of an edge to Dean’s voice. “Well, that sweet-talking devil isn’t here, so you’ll have to put up with me.”

Cas turned gloomy. “Just promise me that if you’re sleeping with other people you’ll tell me, so I can quit thinking that if I tried harder you’d come home every night.”

“Oh, my God, Cas, he really fucked you over, didn’t he,” Dean said, after a pause. “You’re assuming I’ll cheat.”

“You’ll have means, motive and opportunity. People cheat. It’s how things are.”

“You seem pretty, I dunno, fatalistic about it. But not you. You don’t intend to cheat,” Dean said.

“I suppose that under the right circumstances I’d cheat on a committed partner. If he went to jail for ten years and gave me permission, yeah, probably.If he ended up in a coma, maybe, but I’d still go visit every day. I don’t think it’s right to bail on a commitment just because of cheating, but I’m not willing to go through that kind of humiliation again. Honestly, it wasn’t the cheating. It was the lying that did me in.”

“Don’t ever change,” Dean said.

“You think I’m an idiot.”

“I think you take your promises seriously.”

“People should,” Cas said simply.

Dean kissed him. He kissed back. Time passed. They were stretched out on the sofa, kissing some more. Lying side by side. Stroking each other’s hair. It was very slow and very hot at the same time.

Dean’s pocket vibrated against Cas’s hip, and then his phone rang. The ring tone was a woman singing “Come on over!” in a sexy voice.

“Oh Dean,” Cas breathed, a little catch of amused disappointment in his voice. “Cheating on me already?”

“Lemme just get this,” Dean said. He put it on speaker, and Cas felt his heart melt a little at the trust. He tucked into Dean’s shoulder and started stroking his belly through his clothes.

“Charlie, you colossal bitch,” Dean growled.

“Dean, you total horndog,” Charlie was a woman, it seemed.

Cas, his nose inches from Dean’s, made a face.

“You over Stan yet?”

“In the rearview, sister!” Dean said.

“You on speaker? Why you on speaker?” she said in a phony accent.

“Yeah, wanted you to meet my new ….”

There was a high pitched squealing noise that nearly blew out the speaker.

“Dean, Dean, Dean, who is the magical creature?”

Cas stepped up. “Hi, I’m Castiel Novak, Cas for short.”

“A BOY! OH EM GEE!” Charlie yelled in glee. There was more squealing. Dean shrugged.

“Charlie’s a dyke,” Dean mouthed. “Also my step-sister, long story,” he said aloud.

“How long have you boys been plumbing each other’s plumbing, give with the details, I want details goddamnit.”

“I regret that I am a very private person, Charlie, and I won’t be talking about any of that with you.” Cas with a dignified expression was very high class. Dean looked forward to mussing him up a little.

Charlie was hardly put off by this polite display of boundary-setting. “Not even to brag that you bagged Dean Winchester, studliest dude of all the dudes who ever hoed a bro?”

“It’s rather repellent to speak of a man in those terms, don’t you think?” Cas said. Dean squeezed his face into a manic grin and gave a small thumbs’ up. “I’m sure Dean’s rather astonishing expertise had to come from somewhere.”

“You been holding out on me? How long have you been dating? Did you hook up on the internet?”

“I’m Dean’s new tenant,” Cas said. He looked at Dean and shrugged.

“But… Fos only moved out last week!” Charlie thought for two seconds and then squealed again. “You’ve known each other less than a week?”

Dean and Cas started laughing.

“Less than a week? You’re kidding.”

“Kiss me, it’s our five hour anniversary,” Cas said drily. Dean put his face in his hands in an attempt to stifle his giggles, and then obliged, a brief chaste kiss, open-eyed.

“You’ve known each other five hours? How … how is that even possible?”

“It’s the Lord’s doing,” Dean said, in a low sexy drawl. “I prayed to God for the first time in ages this morning and look who showed up.”

“You know what his name means, doncha?” Charlie said.

“No,” Dean said. Cas made a face.

“It means Angel of Thursday. Which is today.”

“So you’re my Thursday angel? Wow. I should pray more often.”

“You should probably quit while you’re ahead. Well I’ll get off the phone now, Dean’s probably itching for round two already. Later bitches! Peace out!”

“She seems nice,” Cas said.

“Charlie is frikkin’ awesome, but she’s a bit of a handful. Now I don’t have to make any phone calls to anybody, she’ll be burning up the wires and I can pay attention to … other things. I don’t imagine anyone will call this late, but we should expect calls in the morning.”

No such luck. They had stripped to their briefs the next time the phone rang, and Cas saw the name come up as Sam, Dean’s younger brother, as Cas hazily recollected. It was hard to think when Dean was stroking his cock through his soaking briefs and kissing him with a dreamy neediness that was fixing his broken heart most effectively.

“Sam,” Dean croaked. He swallowed.

“Is it true? You have a new boyfriend?”

Dean shrugged at the word ‘boyfriend’. Then he smiled. “Yeah. His name’s Cas.”

“What do you know about him? Do you know for sure he’s for real?”

Cas put him out of his misery. “My name’s on the KU website already, if you want to check.”

“Wait, he’s listening? Jeez, man, I’m sorry.”

“Your concern for your brother is commendable,” Cas said. “And unsurprising. This man needs a little gentle domestic guidance. On matters like his diet, for example.” Cas put a finger on Dean’s lips.

The consternation in Sam’s voice was matched by Dean’s eyes, drilling into his.

“How long have you known him? Charlie said you guys met today.”

Dean growled, “Charlie’s got a big mouth.”

Castiel was more forthcoming. “Yes, we met today. Yes, I’m moving in upstairs. I have a job, a car and prospects, one somewhat deranged ex and no kids.”

“Seriously, you can’t be his boyfriend. You’re kinda roomies with benefits.”

Cas deferred to Dean with a splay of his hand.

Dean shrugged back with his eyes. “That’s not how I’d choose to categorize it,” Dean said.

There was a moment during which Sam’s astonishment and shock were silent but palpable, even through a phone line. “Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Dean? What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam was obviously blowing a gasket, which suited Dean fine.

“We’re somewhere between our first kiss and getting married, you goddamn cockblock. Now get off the phone before - oh, Jesus, Cas, warn me before you’re gonna - yeah, hanging up now.” There was a brief noise of expostulation and confusion, and Dean hit ‘End Call’.

Cas chided him over the joke. He didn’t take it personally; he could already see that Dean was born to exaggerate. “Getting married. Why would you do that to your brother? I know you’re kidding, but he doesn’t.”

Dean doubled down. “You’re an old-fashioned guy, right? Why wouldn’t you want a relationship on the marriage track? But, just so’s we’re clear, nothing on God’s earth will convince me to pick out a china pattern.”

He was joking, and he was dead serious.He was Dean, and this would take a little getting used to.“You won’t have to, I inherited my grandmother’s almost complete set of Mikado. You are the weirdest man I ever met, you know that? I never even brought marriage up with Balthazar, he thought marriage was for chumps and cowards and gay people slavishly imitating heteronormative behaviour.”

“It’s for brave people,” Dean said. “Marriage.”

“Are we talking about marriage because it’s less scary than us having sex?” Castiel asked.

“I think my heart might stop,” Dean said, with simplicity. “Plus, you’re out of my league, plus I’m famous for fucking up relationships, plus did I mention I’m afraid I might actually, you know, like, die? And you were enjoying necking so much, I didn’t want to rush you.”

Cas was earnest. “I’d really prefer it if you didn’t die in my arms, it’s been a catastrophic year and things were finally starting to look up.”

Dean gave the ghost of a chuckle. “It counts. I mean, it matters. I don’t want to …”

“We also get to practice. Lots,” Cas said. “And there’s no winners and losers, just people being open and loving and physical with each other.”

Dean’s eyes filled with tears. “I can be pretty kinky. And pretty needy.”

“Needy, after Balthazar, is fine. Kinky I’ll just have to deal with on a case by case basis. Let’s just say I’m no longer feeling undesirable and drab.”

Dean breathed, “I’m scared,” into Cas’s hair.

Cas didn’t try to jolly him out of it, but he did angle the subject away from fear. “We just lay here and kissed and fondled each other for ninety minutes. Did that feel kinky to you?”

“No,” Dean admitted. He couldn’t even describe how it felt.

“It did to me! I nearly climaxed three times here, just from you touching me!” Dean snickered at the old-fashioned, ‘climaxed’. Cas shook him gently. “You make me feel everything I missed in the twelve years between realizing I was gay and coming out, including what is starting to be an epic case of blue balls. The only thing that stopped me from getting off was the phone ringing, and the other times I couldn’t bear to make a mess on your sofa.”

Dean, shaking a trifle with unrequited lust, hauled himself to his feet and put out a hand to Cas. “Let’s go make a mess of my bed,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Cas said readily.

They held hands and then Cas wound an arm around Dean’s waist.

“Dean, quit worrying. I have trust in you, and I know what I want.”

“Good. Maybe you can drive then.”

Dean was trembling like he was feverish. “Let me take care of you,” Cas said as they got into bed. He dove beneath the covers, pushed down Dean’s briefs, and took his meaty, pre-cum-soaked cock into his mouth. As he licked the head and stroked it, Dean went from half-mast to bursting, and Cas grinned to himself. He took it all, as far into his throat and mouth as he could, and gripping the base fiercely, started to bob.

Dean groaned and came like a teenage boy, a huge pulsing load of eight hard spurts. Cas gagged once and then held still, carefully licking Dean off and swallowing. He moved back up the bed and held his new lover, looking at him with a concerned frown. Tears were leaking out between Dean’s closed lids.

“Sorry,” Dean muttered. “Give me a second.” From the way he was stirring, he was thinking of running away, and Cas was in no mood to put up with that.

“I’m happy you just came in my mouth, but I’m a little concerned that you’re –“

“What, Cas, crying like a baby?”

“It’s been an emotional day,” Cas said gently.

“I’ll take care of you, just give me a minute,” Dean said. He knuckled his eyes and sniffed. He shifted again, and Cas threw himself on Dean and held down his hands.

“No, Dean, you don’t get to run away. Tell me what’s happening so I don’t worry about you or fret that I’ve harmed you in some way.”

“I –,” Dean whispered. “I’m sorry I came so fast.”

“I smell shame. Lots of it. Guilt and shame. I was raised Catholic, Dean; I can nose this stuff out.”

“I’m gonna screw it up, I know it,” Dean said, eyes closed. His lower lip wobbled. Cas kissed it. Where the hell is the guy who made me follow him home? Who kissed me first?

Castiel steadied his voice. “Then we fix it.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“If you don’t trust me, it’ll be harder,” Cas promised. “I don’t expect partnerships to be easy. I expect them to be worth the work.”

“I’m a complete fucking loser and when you figure it out you’ll be gone.”

“Oh, Dean, sweetheart, don’t,” Cas said. “I’m here, come back to me. Come back into your beautiful body and share it with me. Leave those horrible thoughts alone for a minute.”

“You’ll be happy for a day, and then you’ll see,” Dean said.

“I was eight years’ worth of stubborn with Balthazar. I’m not giving up on you. Not gonna happen,” Cas said. He pulled Dean’s hands up so they were mashed against the headboard and was rewarded by a little moan. _Are you a sub? God almighty. He wants to be punished for coming so fast._

“Would you fuck me?” Dean said faintly.

“I want to.”

“Really hard? Like, really hard? Get yourself off? U-use me?”

“Lube and condoms in the night stand?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He tried to turn over and Cas said, ‘Uh uh u-uh! You’re going to open your eyes and look at me when I’m coming inside you.” Dean was trembling again.

Cas got a pillow under Dean’s ass and thought, _Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a rim job, so I’ll start with that._

At the first touch of his tongue, hot and eager, Dean shivered from side to side and moaned, a breathy little moan of surprise. Then Cas drizzled some lube on his asshole and worked, slowly and tenderly, with many side trips for nips and kisses along his inner thighs and ball sack, on getting Dean soft and lubed up for Castiel’s cock.

The crackle of the condom wrapper followed. Dean’s tiny whine of surrender as Castiel lined up to fuck his sweet, moist ass, filled up his mind with the words, “Maybe you can drive,” and Cas realized that for all his bravado and persona of butch competence, Dean very badly wanted to be told what to do in bed, at least some of the time.

Cas considered this as he butted the head of his cock against Dean’s so far tight hole. “Let me in, I’m gonna fuck you, I’m gonna fuck you raw, let me in!” He bit Dean’s collarbone and said, in a voice that could fill a lecture hall with its displeasure, “I’m not waiting any longer,” and pushed and pushed until he couldn’t any more. Dean whined and writhed and wiggled around and twisted his head from side to side, emitting a deep groan every time Castiel bottomed out.

“Put your hands behind your head and leave them there,” Castiel said. Dean complied.

“Now, open your eyes and and quit moving, and don’t make another sound until I come,” Castiel said. He put one hand over Dean’s mouth, and never taking his eyes from his, thrust as hard as he could until the hours of foreplay and Dean’s pleading eyes finished him.

“Such a sweet ass,” Castiel moaned as he came. He pulled his hand away and Dean made a keening noise as Cas rammed home, looking down at him with lust and amazement. Dean kept his eyes open, right up until Cas collapsed on him. Cas dealt with the cleanup, while Dean panted and sighed, and then he held his lover again and said, “Can you sleep?”

Dean muttered, “Mf.”

“That’s a yes, then.”

Castiel was never sure if Dean was truly awake when he said it. In a sleepy little boy’s voice he said, “Don’t leave me,” and Castiel, his heart breaking for his lover, not knowing what he was up against, and determined to figure it out, said, “Never. I’ll never leave you.” One corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a wry smile, and he said, “My angel,” and was out cold.

Cas looked at the bedside alarm. It wasn’t even midnight yet. So much for giggles and cuddles afterward.

“Dear Lord,” Castiel said aloud. “That was quite a day.”

 

Dean awoke the next morning handcuffed to his bed. He frowned. He couldn’t remember a scene. Memory flooded back and he sat up against the wrought iron and gasped.

 

“Hi, Sam, this is Cas. I took your number from Dean’s phone. Sorry to call so early.”

“Kids were up already. Everything okay?” Sam stammered as he came a little more awake.

“Your brother is safe and asleep in his own bed.” Cas neglected to mention that he was handcuffed to it as well. “He appears to have some… wounds,” Castiel said. “Psychic wounds,” he amended hastily.

Sam made a noise of disbelief. “I guess you’ve been too busy to talk about that, huh? Has he said anything about his childhood?”

“Not really.”

“If you hadn’t just up and moved in with him he might have had a chance to tell you and help you get used to the idea,” Sam said. He didn’t sound angry at Castiel, the tone of voice was more nagging. He seemed perplexed by the collision of this man with his brother’s life.

Sam continued, after taking a couple of deep breaths. “There’s no good way to say this. He was abused by a family member when he was little.”

Cas, who’d been groomed for sexual abuse before the priest had been arrested, raised his eyebrows and said, “Thank you for your candour. Has anything else traumatizing happened to him recently?”

“He’s been dumped by a fiancée and a boyfriend in the last two years. He’s been so gunshy I couldn’t believe it when Charlie told me he was dating again.”

“Not exactly a date. Tornadoes move slower than Dean does.”

Sam gave a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s Dean. I’m prejudiced, but I think he’s really special, so, please understand me when I ask you to take really special care of him.”

“I’ll try. Call me if you want to check up on me, I know you’ll want to.”

Sam laughed again. “And you came into his shop yesterday? Sounds like you got everything under control.”

“This is probably not something you can answer, but do you have any idea why he might be fixated on me being an angel?”

“Can I ask you what you look like?”

“Uh… Dark brown hair, blue eyes, six feet –“

“You probably remind him of the picture of the angel he had over his bed when he was little.”

“That’s not disturbing at all, now, is it,” Cas said, and sucked on his teeth in dismay.

“He used to claim that he had long conversations with it. I wouldn’t know, I was a toddler at the time. Mom told me. And don’t worry, he’s not hearing voices these days. Dean’s pretty focussed on the here and now.”

“I noticed. Good talking to you, but I’d better see if the coffee’s ready and bring Dean some. Does he drink it black or am I presuming too much?”

“Black. Always.”

“Good to know. Talk to you soon.”

“You too Cas.”

Sam turned to Jess, who’d been following his end of the conversation with rapt attention as they lay together in bed, and said, “Holy shit, I think Dean just hit the jackpot.”

A little voice in the bedroom doorway said, “You said ‘shit’, Daddy!”

Sam looked guilty. Jess laughed, and then quickly scooped up her son and said, “Your Daddy was really surprised.”

 

Dean thought about calling out, and then decided against it. He could hear someone moving in the kitchen, and the smell of coffee floated into the room. A few minutes later, Castiel, dressed in yesterday’s clothes but otherwise looking sleek and pleased with himself, brought in two cups of coffee and set one within reach of Dean’s free hand.

“Not that I’m objecting, yet, but why’m I handcuffed to the bed?” Dean asked conversationally.

“So you are a sub,” Cas said.

“I’m vers,” Dean said.

“Re-e-ally,” Cas said.

“Yes, really,” Dean said. He seemed annoyed. “It may be eighty-twenty, but yes, I can top.” He reached for his coffee and scowled at Cas over it as he drank.

“I’m quite vanilla,” Cas said regretfully. “I’ve never topped anyone.”

“You covered my mouth last night and told me to be quiet.”

“It’s not fair to expect me to be able to read your mind, Dean. You said, “Maybe you should drive” which was the only clue I got as to what you wanted.”

“Are you already giving me the ‘Dean should communicate better’ speech? That usually takes weeks.”

“Whirlwind courtships are filled with surprises,” Cas said. “Is there anything I should be doing to you while you’re restrained? I’m finding unrestricted access to sex a mood enhancer, so I’m feeling generous.”

Dean’s eyes became luminous. “I was bad,” he said.

“You came too fast last night,” Cas said, in a calm, reflective tone.

Dean said, “I did.”

“It turned me on, actually, that all I had to do was run my mouth up and down your dick half a dozen times for you to come.”

“I still should have had better self-control,” Dean said. “Are you going to punish me?” His eyes were sparkling.

“Finish your coffee,” Cas said affably. “Take your time.”

Dean stared at him. He didn’t touch his coffee.

“Gracious,” Cas said after lifting the covers. He put them down gently. “Do you want me to uncuff you before I spank you?”

Dean shook his head. He couldn’t take his eyes from Castiel.

“Do you consent to me spanking you?”

Dean nodded vigorously. “Can I make you come afterward?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re very bad,” Cas corrected. He put his coffee down and got onto the bed. “On your hands and knees, then.”

Dean obeyed, at speed.

There was a technique for doing this to minimize how much your hand would hurt afterward, but Cas was a babyDom, and not very adept. He hadn’t exactly had anyone to practice on. Balthazar had definitely been the top before. _It feels bizarre to be topping this effortlessly masculine creature, but oh well, l guess love takes you to some damned strange and weird places._

“This is for dragging me into a scene without telling me what you were doing.”

Slap.

Dean sighed.

“This is for not giving me my apartment keys yet.”

Slap.

Dean whined.

“Don’t forget, before you leave the house today.”

Slap.

Dean wiggled his strong, delicious ass.

“Hold still. This is for not storing your porn properly and nearly braining me, you dumbshit,” Cas said. Dean snickered.

“That laugh gets you another two in fast succession. Take me seriously when I’m topping you or I’ll start laughing too.”

Slap. Then, as hard as he could, slap.

“This is for being so good-looking I feel like I’m dreaming when I look at you.”

Slap.

“Let me emphasize that point.”

Slap.

“Just in case I didn’t make myself clear.”

Slap.

“This is for coming too fast.”

Slap.

“How many is that?”

“I-I lost track.”

“I lost track, master,” Cas said.

Dean made a noise indicating that he was coming unglued,

“I lost track, master,” he said, with a little whimper as he said, ‘I’.

Slap.

“My hand is really stinging. I’ll use a paddle next time.” Cas took off his clothes while Dean shuddered, hearing rather than seeing the clothing hit the chair.

“On your back.” Dean complied, and Cas lay on top of him, kissing him and saying, “Good man. Now I’m going to come on your stomach. You can pleasure yourself if you like, or hold it back for later.” There was a sputtering squirt of lube, and Cas started rubbing his cock against Dean’s.

 

Frottage was Cas’s bread and butter sex. Consistently arousing in prospect, it was messy and dirty and sexy and face to face for lots of kissing, just as a sweet-natured repressed and deeply romantic Catholic boy might like it. Best of all, he’d never done it with Dean before, although the rubbing and kissing the night before had all but ticked that box.

Dean’s dick was so hot it seemed to warm the lube instantly. Cas almost expected to hear a sizzle as he slid against him, thrusting, kissing, nipping, lifting up a couple of times to tug Dean’s tiny hard little nubbins of nipples, kissing him some more. Dean was obviously aroused, but Cas was worried about not getting him off. As he thrust against Dean, he had an idea. He slid his hands under Dean’s ass and grabbed it as roughly as he could. Dean said, “Oh, oh, oh God,” as Cas’s hands stung his recently spanked ass and he came, jerking and moaning rhythmically while bear-hugging Cas.

“Good man,” Cas whispered. Dean felt dizzyingly strong. “I’m gonna come now,” and came on Dean’s belly. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he didn’t have much in the way of self-control at that point.

As soon as Cas came back to himself, which took a minute, he found the handcuff keys and took them off. Dean’s wrist was a mess. Cas kissed it better.

“Did you mean it,” Dean whispered. “You’ll paddle me next time?”

“Oh yeah,” Cas said, massaging his hand. They held each other in silence, sharing an occasional sweet little kiss, for maybe ten minutes.

“I’m going to go check out of my motel now,” Cas said, sitting up. “Can I have my key?”

“Are you going to live upstairs?” Dean asked.

“I’ll be paying rent, so, yes. Dean, I have a big need for peace, quiet and privacy; it’s one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did with Balthazar, since he left me alone so much. I also have a ridiculous number of books.”

“Are you going to sleep downstairs?” Dean asked, piteously.

“As much as I can and still meet my other obligations,” Cas said. “Publish or perish and all that.”

Dean lay back and considered this, frowning. He got up and got the key. “There’s a garage key, if you want to park in the garage, which I’d recommend.”

He looked stricken.

“What?” Cas said.

Dean’s phone rang. He shrugged, saw the name, let his shoulders sag, and put it on speaker.

“Hey Dean,” a sexy woman’s voice said before Dean could even answer.

Cas mouthed, “What???”

“Hey Lorna,” Dean said, with not a lot of expression in his voice.

“Whose car’s in your driveway? I’m having a super hard time trying to picture you even allowing that junker to be parked there.”

Cas put his face in his hands.

“Please explain to me how it’s any of your business, Lorna,” Dean said.

“I just want to know if you’re serious about this one. “Cause if you’re not…”

Dean didn’t say anything.

“Aw, c’mon Dean, just a little joke.”

“Lorna, remember when you and I were on the serious relationship track and I confided in you that I was bi and you took a powder? And then came bouncing back because you just love fucking me but you just can’t handle being seen in public with me any more because I occasionally like dick?”

“We’re still friends … with benefits… right? Dean? And what’s the big deal, it’s not like you’re monogamous.”

“Well,” Dean said, affably, but with a crispness that indicated that he wasn’t keen on the conversation, “I met someone who doesn’t mind that I’m bi, and I’m finding that being accepted for who I am by somebody –“

Cas dropped his hands. Dean looked at him with gratitude and longing, and Cas’s heart turned over. He continued, “Somebody who acts like they want to love me and treat me how I want to be treated is kinda fucking awesome, actually, and I’m tired of being the side piece.”

“So…” Lorna said uncertainly.

“Hiatus!” Cas said in a hoarse whisper.

Dean shrugged with his hands and frowned at Cas.

“So this is it?”

Dean went with it. “No Lorna, we’re on hiatus. Maybe the show gets renewed, maybe it gets cancelled, but I’m really happy, and he’s monogamous, so – unless and until he dumps my sorry ass, I am too.”

“Dean Winchester, monogamous?” Lorna scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”

“I like you and you are very hot, but we are on hiatus.” Dean was firm.

“You’re a bastard.”

“My mother says otherwise, but I get why you’re saying that. Bye, Lorna,” Dean said. He disconnected.

“Hiatus? What the hell, Cas.”

“Scorned lovers do stupid things. Telling her there’s the chance you’ll get back together will prevent her from doing something untoward. Also, if you and I come to an arrangement so you can have your het needs addressed, she might be a good candidate. Nobody has to lie, nothing’s public, everything’s civil, we exchange Christmas cards.”

Dean sat on his bed looking like he’d been run through with a sword and hadn’t yet realized he was supposed to fall over.

Finally he regained the power of speech. “Are you serious? Do you want to have someone on the side?”

“No. But I seem to be doomed to love men who have _way_ more jam than I do, so I’m just trying to get ahead of the curve, here. If Balthazar had only come to me and tried to explain himself we might still be together. I don’t want a mistake like that to ruin my chances with you.”

Dean shook his head. “What’s the catch?”

Castiel sat back in his chair.

“You. You’re the catch, Dean,” he said. “Nobody else has figured it out yet.” He sighed. “Can we move on to a discussion on logistics?”

“By all means,” Dean said, a baffled expression on his face.

“I need your house key so I can get in and cook you dinner.”

That frown of disbelief appeared again. “Am I hallucinating? You cook?”

Castiel sighed. “I won’t lie, I prefer baking because it’s more festive and less ‘how do I turn ground lamb and two veg into dinner’ but yeah, I cook.”

“You bake? Like, as in, pie?”

“My go-to is apple pie, but I break out the chocolate pecan pie once in a while. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

That’s when Dean fell over on the bed. He clutched his chest and said, “Okay, God, you can stop the shower of blessings right now before I start thinking you’re punking me.”

“Dean, God has nothing to do with it. I’m right here. Give me your cell phone and I’ll get all your phone numbers.”

“What are you planning for dinner?” Dean asked hopefully. Cas mentally acknowledged that he’d fallen in love with a man with very simple needs, and very complicated ways of getting them met.

“I’m not making pie,” Castiel said, grinning. “Any allergies?”

“Biphobic assholes and Amoxicillin – but there’s no food I won’t eat if I can get close enough to it,” Dean said drily.

“Then do I have to tell you? I hadn’t got that far in the meal planning, I’m still wrapping my head around the idea that between now and the time school starts all I need to do is review the first weeks’ lectures and settle into my apartment, and the office I share with Professor Crowley. Oh, and have massive amounts of vanilla-through-kinky sex with you, pretty much any time we’re both here.”

“You make that sound like…heaven.”

“Which brings up something else.”

“You’ve got cancer and you’re dying,” Dean said, looking stricken again.

In a staccato, ‘I’m at the end of my rope’ voice, Castiel said, “Stop freaking out, Dean, you’re a grown man and it’s unbecoming.” He modulated his tone, and became cajoling. “Have you ever heard the Yiddish expression, ‘The trouble is, the bride’s too pretty’?”

“No. How can the bride be too pretty?” Dean said, and his exaggerated expression of puzzlement made Cas chuckle.

“It’s an expression for when somebody is looking for reasons for something not to happen.”

There was a pause. Dean said, “And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Who’s a smart boy, you are, yes you are,” Cas said.

“Shaddap. I’m not used to things going well.”

“This last year has put me in the same boat. Let’s just take a breath, okay? Deep breaths.”

“Deep breaths my ass,” Dean said.

“About heaven,” Castiel said. “I have a confession to make.”

Dean waited.

“When I was fourteen, the parish priest died. He was a magnificent servant of the Lord and I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. The man who replaced him was a sexual predator who preferred pubescent boys.”

Dean sat up, his eyes as wide and round as coins.

“No,” he breathed, obviously horrified.

“No,” Castiel said. “He groomed me for sex, but the day we were supposed to meet for something more than ‘spiritual warfare’, his past caught up to him and he was arrested on charges of pedophilia, dating back over fifteen years, and over three parishes.”

“Holy shit,” Dean said.

“While I was still interested in becoming a priest, I never regained my vocation; I was merely trying to keep my mother happy. And I ended up taking Greek and Latin in school because I figured eventually my vocation would come back if I waited on the Lord.”

“You would have made one _smoking_ hot priest,” Dean said. “Hey, do you have one of those priest dress things? That would be amazing. For, you know –“

“You are incorrigible. No, I don’t. They’re called cassocks, Dean. If you feel like spending three hundred bucks plus shipping for the one I wanted back when I was dreaming about it, I’ll send you the link.”

Dean pretended to bug out his eyes in horror. “Three hundred bucks? I suppose any of the women I know wouldn’t choke at three hundred bucks for a dress, so I can’t complain. There’s probably other things you want me to buy you first.”

“Apart from groceries? An awning for the upstairs deck? I can’t think of anything.”

“You don’t really care about money, do you?” Dean said, shaking his head.

“I care intensely about money when I don’t have any, but that should be fixed soon. It’s lust and sloth that are my besetting sins, not avarice.”

“And thank God for that,” Dean said reverently. “Okay, you talked me down, but what about heaven?”

“Oh,” Castiel said, “That. This priest I mentioned - I don’t say his name, you’ll notice - kept calling me his angel, over and over again.”

There was a long pause. “Not a good association.”

“I can handle you saying it to me in private. However, I know how very enthusiastic you are, not to mention sloppily affectionate –“

“Hey!” Dean said, and then stopped trying to deny it at the loving and playful expression on Cas’s face.

“ – So I’m warning you I’ll be embarrassed and vexed if you call me that in public.”

“Done,” Dean said positively. “I won’t.”

Then he said, “My ass is just glowing.”

“You gonna be okay? I didn’t do any aftercare. I’m trying to figure out how to be a Dom on the internet and it’s a lot to take in. Did you mind me asking you to call me master?”

“Mind? No. Fuckin’ near died, is all. You’re being a good sport about my kinks.”

 _I wonder when he’ll tell me about the abuse,_ Castiel thought.

“I must run,” Castiel said, and stood up. “My numbers, cell and office, are programmed into your phone. Call or text me anytime, but I’m terrible at checking my phone and I’m very forgetful when I’m working.”

“And for sure you’ll be here when I get home?” Dean said. Once again he was a lonely little boy, begging for certainty after being hurt.

“If I’m not, it won’t be my fault, or yours,” Castiel promised. “I don’t care if it’s tornadoes, a zombie apocalypse or a meteor strike, I’ll find my way back to you.”

“Wow,” Dean said. He stood and held his arms open. “Me too.”

Cas gave him a sound but tongueless kiss, and left.

Dean sat back down on the bed.

The phone rang. It was the garage, thank God. Dean couldn’t take another phone call from a family member or former (current, with a hall pass? Who knew?) lover. Could Dean come in early? His partner Benny had been called home to deal with a broken water main. He ran his hands over his ass with a reminiscent smile, showered, threw on clean work clothes, collected a travel mug of coffee and drove to work feeling really good. Castiel’s words rang in his ears. “I’ll find my way back to you.”

 

Work was fantastic. He was in a bulletproof mood; he firmly put aside all sad thoughts and concentrated on having a high energy, super productive, ass-kicking and name-taking kind of day. Benny, the person on earth he felt closest to (that he wasn’t related to or sleeping with) came in around noon and told him he’d pick up the rest of the afternoon, and Dean said, “Naw, I’m on a roll. C’mon in and let’s stack ‘em up.

Benny said, as soon as he saw him, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Whad’ja mean?”

“You’re glowing.”

“Meant to mention about that. I’m in love, he’s the one, and he’s moving in with me.”

“Sworn off women?” Benny said, one eyebrow heading for the ceiling, the other compressing into a squint.

“Unless I get a hall pass, pretty much. He’s everything I ever wanted in a partner, plus pie.”

“That’s… I dunno what to say.”

“You can tell him yourself when you meet him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Cas Novak,” Dean said.

“Wait a minute,” Benny said. “I saw a work order go through with that name. Are you messing around with customers? That’s pretty low.”

“Now that you mention it, it’s pretty low, remarkably slutty, and more than a little unprofessional. Don’t care. He’s a university professor.”

Benny’s look of disbelief would have been comical if it wasn’t so insulting.

“What does he teach?”

“Classics.”

“Classic cars? Classic rock?” Benny said, obviously trying to get Dean’s goat.

“No, dumbass, I handle that end of things. Greek, Latin, and History of Philosophy.”

“What does he see in you? Dude, you’re a barbarian.” Benny saying Dude in that cute accent always made Dean laugh internally.

“I dunno, but we’re already talking getting hitched, so he must see something. ‘Sides, I could ask you the same about Ellen, you jackass, and you talked her into carrying two of your spawn, which we can all thank God I’ll never do with Cas.”

“So you’re stepping out of that closet?” Benny said.

“I gotta. I can’t get into it any more, but that’s probably because there’s about three grand worth of sex toys in there….”

“I never want to hear that combination of words again.”

“Want me to describe our first….”

“La la la la la,” Benny said, and found something else to do out of earshot of Dean.

Dean’s cheek muscles were sore from smiling by the time he pulled into the driveway at 7:15, having taken ten extra minutes buying flowers on the way home. He asked the florist what the language of flowers said about eternal friendship and respect, and was directed to the yellow roses. They were beautifully fresh and fragrant.

The Continental wasn’t visible, and he frowned. He saw it as soon as the garage door opened and admitted to himself that he had been worried.

He walked into the house with the bouquet, and blinked in relief when he smelled dinner and heard Cas cheerily call his name. There was something about the way he said it that made his heart sing, and he couldn’t say why, it just happened.

“Roses. Yellow roses. Every time I think you’re an obvious man, you surprise me, Dean. They’re beautiful. Do you own a vase?”

“Uh…yeah, somewhere,” Dean said guiltily. _Didn’t think that one through, Winchester._

“We’ll have to stuff them in an empty liquor bottle then,” Cas said, trying not to laugh.

Dean was piqued. “No, I’m sure I own a vase, Mom brought one and left it here.” He opened a cupboard and located it at the back, and pulled it out. “Gotta wash it, though.” He busied himself with washing it and nearly jumped out of his skin when Cas snuck up behind him and kissed his neck. “Cas, dammit! I nearly dropped it.”

“I was expecting you to come through the door looking for food and sex in more or less that order; I wasn’t expecting roses and Domestic Dean.”

“I’m just full of surprises,” Dean said, grinning.

“Two roast chickens so you have leftovers for lunch, roast vegetables and spinach salad,” Cas said. “Give me two minutes to plate everything.”

“Sounds fantastic… but I gotta be honest, Cas, not a big fan of bunny food.”

“Two words,” Cas said. “Crumbled bacon.”

“Oh, well, then,” Dean said, somewhat mollified. It was all fantastic, and Dean said so. He finished first, cleared the table and started the dishes. Cas moved his plate to the other side of the table so he could face Dean while he ate. “What makes you eat so fast?” Castiel asked, genuinely curious.

“Efficiency,” Dean said, holding up an index finger. He finished with everything that couldn’t go in the dishwasher, and sat back down with a beer.

“I picked up some boxed wine while I was out, can you pour me a glass?”

“Do you mind a Star Wars plastic glass?” Dean said, straight faced.

“Dean, I know you have wine glasses, you’re yanking my chain,” Cas said.

“Teasing you is off the menu?”

“No; but beware the inexorable pendulum of bloody revenge,” Cas said in portentous tones.

“God, I could listen to you talk all day.”

“Glad someone feels that way, because there are times, as a lecturer, when I get tired of my own voice; I can only imagine how the poor students feel sometimes.”

“I never will,” Dean averred.

“I have to say that my first thought about your voice was that it was sex in a jar,” Cas said.

“You flatterer. I’m gonna pack up the chicken before I eat all of it and stick it in the fridge for lunches,” Dean said. “I work tomorrow and get Sunday and Monday off, and because Benny’s the family man he gets Saturday and Sunday off, which is the same reason I take the late shift, since I don’t have preschool kids to put to bed.”

“What’s Benny like?” Cas asked.

“Best damned wrench I ever met,” Dean said. “Fast, strong, creative and his memory for parts and vehicles makes me look like a moron. Also, and this is critical for a business partner, he’s honest. Not honest to a fault, just honest and trustworthy. Partnering up with him was a damned good decision, and sometimes, when I was having….”

“Romantic difficulties,” Cas supplied, and sipped his wine.

“One way of putting it,” Dean said, frowning briefly, “- anyway I knew I’d made one good decision. Shop’s in the black, we’re employing six staff including us, and we mentor people who want to be mechanics who can’t get apprenticeships because of bad breaks or whatever.”

Castiel put his chin in one hand, swirled his wine with the other, and looked at Dean the way everybody wants to be looked at.

What Dean wanted to do next, after that loving glance, was fuck, but he didn’t want to burn Cas out. “Wanna watch TV?” Dean said.

“This should be interesting,” Castiel said. “What do you want to watch?”

“Do you even watch TV?” Dean asked apologetically. “You might be too highbrow for that.”

Castiel blew a very sloppy raspberry, which Dean was not expecting. He smirked.

“I don’t watch reality shows. I don’t watch sports, except the Olympics and the World Cup, and only because Bal made me until I started to enjoy it. Give me a documentary narrated by David Attenborough and I’m happy. Or a documentary about architecture, and obviously anything about the ancient world.”

“Basketball?” Dean asked hopefully.

“I don’t mind if you watch it. There’ll be lots of times I’ll be too busy marking papers, researching and Skyping with my collaborators to watch TV anyway.”

“You’ll be hiding up in your apartment.”

Castiel smiled. “I’ll be working. Not hiding. I’ll spend every minute with you that I can. I’m sure you have other projects to be working on too.”

Dean sagged a little. “I’m a homeowner; it’s not like the work stops.”

“There you are, then,” Cas said.

“Are you always going to be like this? The sensible one?”

“Mr. Buzzkill, you mean? That’s what Bal used to call me,” Cas said, his eyes somehow brighter.

“Uh, no,” Dean said. He sat on the sofa. It was the same sofa they’d necked on.

Castiel got up, put his wineglass down on the end table and said, “Dean, are you sure you wouldn’t rather do – ”

Dean put one strong hand on his far shoulder, and pulled until their faces were inches apart.

“ – something else?”

“Like, bang?” Dean asked hopefully.

“Mr. Romance,” Cas breathed. Dean closed the distance between them and kissed him.

The doorbell rang.

“You have _got_ to be shitting me,” Dean said.

“You expecting someone?” Castiel said uneasily.

“No, I am not,” Dean said. He got up as if he intended to push whoever was at the door down the walkway and onto the street.

Castiel sat up and then put his hand over his mouth when he heard Dean say, nonplussed, “Mom!”

“Hey Dean, what’s this Charlie says about you having a new boyfriend?”

“C’mon in and meet him,” Dean said.

“Oh!” his mom said.

Castiel, fervently thanking God that he was a) decent and b) wearing something that didn’t make him look like a scrub, rose and fixed a look of pleasant expectation on his face.

“Mom, this is Castiel Novak. Cas, this is Mary Winchester.”

Castiel saw a trim, well-preserved and attractive middle aged woman, dressed casually and comfortably.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. How long has it been since you two got together?” Cas asked.

“Four, maybe five months?” Mary said, looking at Dean, who now looked suspicious rather than incensed.

“Oh, then I imagine you two have lots to talk about. It’s late. Can I assume you’re staying?” he asked Mary.

“Yeah,” Mary said, looking at Dean. “If it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” Cas said, before Dean could respond. “But we’d appreciate if you called next time so we can have your room made up. I’ll go deal with that.” He left Dean, whose expression could be read as “Don’t Leave Me Alone With Her!”, to his mother’s interrogation, and went to find sheets for the guest room bed.

Castiel looked around the guest room after he made the bed. There was no trash can and no box of tissues, which struck him as inhospitable, so he rustled up those items, and then remembered to get the biggest towel and the least ratty facecloth out of the linen closet. When the room looked as welcoming as he could make it, he returned to the living room and found Mary sitting at the kitchen island, and Dean pacing up and down.

“It’s ready when you are,” Cas said to Mary.

“Thanks. How long have you been living here?” Mary asked.

“Two days,” Cas answered. He took a seat across from her. “Can I offer you some wine? It’s boxed, but it does the job.”

Dean quit pacing and smirked. His mother wasn’t an alcoholic, but she’d never turned down a glass of wine to his knowledge if she was done driving for the day.

“Sure,” Mary said.

“Hungry?” Dean said. “There’s cold chicken and spinach salad in the fridge. Cas made us dinner.”

“I could eat."

He turned to Castiel and said, “I probably didn’t mention that my mother’s a private investigator.”

Castiel said, “I’m always interested when women take up – non-traditional work. It sounds challenging.”

“It pays the bills,” Mary said shortly.

“Did you run a background check on me yet?” Castiel said.

There was a little pause. “And now you know why I love him,” Dean said.

He and Cas shared a glance. Cas shook his head and frowned, a little, quelling frown, and Dean looked exaggeratedly innocent.

“It’s hard for me to believe you’re in love with someone you just met,” Mary said. But it was obvious. If Cas was faking it, Mary couldn’t tell, and she knew that whatever Dean was feeling, he thought it was real. Mary kept her thoughts firmly behind her poker-face.

“You knew Dad was the one for you within the first hour,” Dean countered.

“Resulting in a shotgun wedding, and you when I was seventeen,” Mary said, losing her temper a trifle. Mary’s apparent youthfulness now made more sense to Cas. Realizing how she’d sounded, Mary said, “Not that I’m sorry about that now,” she added.

“Maybe you can shed some light on why it is that so many of Dean’s family members are concerned about me,” Castiel enquired in a mild voice.

“I only came out to my family two years ago - after my wedding plans blew up. I’m still not out, like, out out,” Dean said. “Not in the community.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. “So all this time, Mary, you’ve been expecting a daughter-in-law? Eventually?”

Normally it was Mary asking the questions. Speechless, she nodded.

“What are you expecting from your son’s partner?” Castiel asked.

Mary found her voice. “I hope you’ll be honest and loyal and do what you can to make him happy.”

“And what do you expect from Dean?” The sly look he sent Dean stole Dean’s breath away.

“The same, except he’ll always be my little boy –”

“Mom!” Dean said in protest, tearing his eyes away from Castiel.

“And I’ll kick your ass if you hurt him.”

Castiel heaved a sigh, apparently of contentment, and said, “I’m sure we’ll talk more, but right now I’m going to go deal with my email. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Sure,” said Mary blankly.

“Catch up with you later,” Dean purred.

Castiel vanished down the hall, heading in the direction of the master bedroom. They heard a door close, gently.

There was a long pause. Dean seemed content to be quiet; his mother tried and failed to think of something intelligent to say.

“Isn’t he something?” Dean said after a minute.

“He came into the shop?”

“When I was alone. I had to work fast. He told me he was gay within minutes - also that his dad had just died and his lover was a cheating sack o’ shit - so I outed myself about being bi, figuring I’d have no chance if I didn’t take this one, and three hours later we’re necking on the couch,” Dean said.

“That’s enough detail!” Mary said, holding up one hand and giving her head a little shake.“And the rest is history,” Mary added drily. “All forty-eight hours of it.”

“I s’pose I should be glad that Dad didn’t decide to join you,” Dean said. John’s homophobia was not subtle, and there’d been a marked coolness between father and son since the announcement.

“He’s on stakeout. I have to go back at oh dark thirty to relieve him.”

“The old homeless-woman-in-a-car-full-of-trash routine?”

“I can always have a shower and a good, long soak when it’s over,” Mary said.

Dean said, “God, I’m dyin’ for a shower. The new wi-fi password’s tacked up on the fridge door. G’night.”

Mary said, “I never collected my hug.”

Winchesters hugged like they meant it. Mary whispered, “Love you,” and Dean whispered, “Love you,” back.

Mary said, as they broke apart, “I think he’s too smart for you, but I like him.”

Dean grinned. “I know he’s too smart for me, and I don’t care.”

Mary laughed when she saw the new password: OnWeSweepWithThreshingOar. _That is so Dean._ She felt a rush of love for her son, whose abuse had caused her so much grief and guilt, and allowed herself to believe, in a way she hadn’t previously, that happiness was waiting for him at the end of the hall.

She texted Sam and Jess and Charlie and Bobby. “Cas is too good for him but Dean knows it. Everybody quit worrying.”

She texted her husband. “Dean’s fallen in love with a man. If you want to be a douche about it don’t expect any sympathy from me or Sam. He’s quite a guy.”

She was careful to put in earplugs before she slept. As a parent, there are some things you just don’t want to know.

 

“Well, that was something else,” Dean said.

“How so?” Cas said.

“I don’t think my mom’s used to being managed like that.”

“I’m not used to people I don’t know showing up at my place unannounced,” Cas said. “And I know it’s your place, which is why I dealt with it as I did."

Dean rubbed his eyes. “She didn’t want me to tell her I was too busy or that her dropping by was inconvenient.”

“Well, it was, but I’m still troubled by how your family treats you like you’re ….”

“Well?” Dean said.

“Of diminished capacity,” Cas said. “As they say, you’re a grown-ass man.”

“Shit happened to me when I was young that makes ‘em worry more than normal,” Dean said.

Still dodging, Cas thought. He didn’t press.

Dean said, “I’m going to have a shower, and then maybe we can circle back to the conversation that was so rudely interrupted. Really not expecting to get cock-blocked by my own mother, it just seems wrong somehow.”

“You still want to have sex?” Cas asked, obviously scandalized.

“If she didn’t bring earplugs, that’s on her,” Dean said, with blithe unconcern.

“There is no way I could have sex within earshot of my mother,” Cas said. That was in a special category of boner-killer.

“Good thing your mother’s not here, then,” Dean said, as if this took care of the problem. “Care to join me in the shower?”

“Mmmm.Sure.”

“Relax, the handrails are rated to 500 pounds,” Dean said.

Cas raised his eyebrows.

“I installed them myself,” Dean said.

“Well, then,” Cas said. Dean was not a man who did thing by halves.

“I made a little seat out of cedar, too, just in case you feel like taking a load off.”

“I’ll try to be quiet,” Cas said.

“I’ll be like a little mouse,” Dean said .

“Somehow I doubt it,” Cas said.

“You know me too well. Want me to get a gag?”

“I was planning on kissing you, so, no.”

“You’re wearing too much clothing.”

“I was just about to… oh. Oh!”

Dean set himself the task of verbally enumerating the idiocies of Castiel’s ex-boyfriend, while taking Castiel’s clothes off. It just occurred to him that this would be a stretch challenge, as he herded Cas into the shower to do exactly what, he hadn’t yet decided. There was always the chance Cas would make him grip the handrails. It was part of his charm, so far; not knowing whether he’d go all melty or grab something and start sucking.

That shirt had to go. First button, “You know, I have to say I’m grateful that Balthazar - seriously, it’s like a –“ second button, “Bond villain name, what the hell, man –“ third button, “that this jerk couldn’t see your” fourth button, “powerfully attractive personal qualities –“ fifth button, “yikes, and not one to –“ as Cas pushed his overalls past his shoulders and made him drop his arms so he could step out of them.

“My, that was fast.” Cas slid his hands into his briefs and cupped his ass. Dean kicked his coveralls aside without looking down.

Castiel had a way of breathing a long-suffering sigh that made him sound like the world’s sexiest man. He murmured, after nibbling briefly on his neck, “Dean, if you’re not kissing me, please be quiet. I don’t want to listen to you talk about my ex.”

“Not even if I think he’s an ass for not appreciating you?” Cas dug his fingers in just a little bit harder than was polite and Dean felt his blood thrumming into his dick and his heart rate kick up a notch. He pushed and rubbed his crotch against Cas.

Cas was having trouble breathing too, but he was still able to put a sentence together. “Looking back is for people who’d rather hold a grudge and pine for old glories than live and work in the present and plan for the future.” His hands let go of Dean’s ass and Dean said, “That a fact,” and put one hand in the small of Cas’s back and the other on the back of his neck and kissed him, chuckling once as Cas opened his mouth with a very satisfying eagerness. Dean started to push Cas toward the bed; Cas frowned, released and said, “Bait and switch; can’t advertise shower sex and then –“

“So strict,” breathed Dean, “Just trying to get the rest of your – “

“I can be obliging,” Cas said. His clothes fell to the floor. With an evil giggle, Dean got out of his t-shirt; as his elbows went up, the play of muscles across his chest, belly and arms knocked the remaining breath out of Cas’s lungs.

They were both panting now. Dean pulled Cas by one hand into the tub and tried to get the water to the right temperature, while Cas slid one hand between his legs and the other snaked around to caress his dick, finding and circling a finger through his pre-cum. “Oh god,” Dean moaned, closing his eyes.

“Shower?” Cas murmured. Steam coiled around them as they stood under the spray. Dean grabbed onto a handrail to stabilize them, and they kissed and rubbed up against each other for a few minutes. Dean opened the shower enclosure long enough to grab the seat, and put it down at the end of the tub and said, “Rock paper scissors for who gets to sit down first?”

“One, two, three,” said Cas. His paper covered Dean’s rock, and Dean sat and demonstrated how extraordinarily nimble and strong his tongue was, how skilled his mouth was at creating exactly the right amount of suction, how one hand gripped his cock with magisterial firmness while the other teased, probed, lightly scratched and stroked everything else it could reach.

Cas needed that handrail. After five minutes he came so hard he felt a bit dizzy afterward and, leaning against Dean, did a slow motion fold onto the bottom of the tub. Dean swallowed and swapped spots with him, sliding past him and letting him sit.

“Give me a minute,” Cas managed when he could talk and open his eyes. Dean gripped himself and started jerking himself off. “I can’t wait. I’ve never gotten so hot from blowing someone before, you gave yourself up to me so completely.”

Cas watched, trying to learn what would please Dean, as Dean pumped a little body wash onto his hand and stroked and pulled on himself. “Can I come on you?’” Dean murmured. “Not on your face, not with this soap,” he added and Cas had a sudden inspiration. He stood on the cedar chair, and holding the handrail again, displayed his shapely ass and back to Dean.

“Damn, Cas! you are something to behold,” Dean moaned, and then, carefully, Cas stepped down so the insides of his thighs slid past Dean’s dick. Dean came all over his back, ass and the tops of his thighs, growling rhythmically as he did so.

After a minute, Dean said, almost shyly, “Can I take a washcloth to you?”

“I’d like that,” Cas said. They cleaned each other up, carefully and tenderly, towelled each other dry, with a couple of pauses for more kisses.

“How was that,” Dean said, as if he was worried. “You didn’t mind me doing that?”

Cas tried not to compare lovers, but it was clear that not only was Dean the best lover he’d ever had - that blowjob had been unreal - he was likely the best lover he ever would have, just in case he was thinking of expanding his sample size.

Bal would have fucked him in the ass longer than was comfortable, with not enough lube, and with very poor grace allowed Cas to come from frottage afterward. Then he would have leaped into the shower to hose himself down - alone. No after play, no tenderness, no cuddles, and he never shared a shower or tub with Cas. Have sex, get cleaned up immediately, then stalk the next act of hedonism.

In fact, the more Cas thought about it, the more he realized that any time Cas expressed a preference, Bal would do what he could to thwart his hopes.

“Man, I’m such a fucking idiot,” Cas said aloud.

“What?” Dean asked, horrified that he had done something Cas disliked.

“Go ahead and diss my ex. I want to hear all about it.”

With a low, triumphant laugh, Dean started to comply. “Top ten reasons why Bal’s a complete fucking wad,” he said. Halfway through his extempore recitation, which contained, among other things, an impassioned defence of Cas’s dick, ass, intelligence, hotness, kissability, manners and cooking skills, Cas was in the fetal position, laughing so hard he was crying. He tried to remember the last time he and Bal had laughed in bed. Dean quit talking. He rested his forehead against Cas’s and they breathed each other’s sweet, post-coital breath. Like a little piece of dark chocolate at the end of a perfect meal, Cas thought dreamily.

“I looked up demisexuality,” Dean said, when Cas was lying still in his arms again, the laughing fit over. “I don’t buy it. You had sex with me on the first date.”

“My brain tricked itself into thinking it already knew you and trusted you,” Cas said.

“Was it a trick? Or just, I dunno, fate?”

“Or maybe you are so volcanically hot it melted my normal reserve,” Cas said.

“Ah,” Dean said, “That must have been it.”

“I love you,” Cas said, because he couldn’t help himself.

“I love you too,” Dean said, “And all I want from life is a chance to prove it.”

“With that toy collection?” Cas said dreamily. “Take your time.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean said, and Cas felt his chest fill with delight at the endearment, “I have every intention of doing just that.”

 

That night, Cas started to get the measure of how difficult Dean might be to live with, at least occasionally.

He woke up disoriented and in pain. Dean was having a nightmare and had struck him in the shoulder, hard enough that he could still feel it a couple of days later. Dean was still fast asleep - yelling something inarticulate, and otherwise howling in terror.

Cas fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned on the light. “Dean. Dean. Dean!” Cas shook him. Dean made a heartrending noise of pure fright, then yelled “NO!” and sat bolt upright. For a second he didn’t recognize Cas.

The fear left his face and was replaced by embarrassment, perhaps even shame.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said in a whisper.

“It was a nightmare. You hit me in the shoulder but I’m okay,” Cas said.

“I’m really sorry,” Dean said.

“I’ll live. Do you often get night terrors?”

Dean was still not a hundred percent conscious. After a pause, he said, “They come in cycles. I’ll have nightmares for a week and then nothing for six months. I should have warned you, that was –“

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

“You are?” It was amazing how Dean could sound like a little boy when he was rattled.

“Bal was in a horseback riding accident when he was 12. He was trapped under his dying horse for about two hours; if he was restrained or put in a confined space he’d have a meltdown. He had horrific nightmares, a couple of times a month.”

“I bet he never punched you, though.”

“Are you kidding? He dislocated my jaw once, I still have pain from it.”

“Where’d I punch you?” Dean said.

Cas pointed. “Here. Go on, kiss it better.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I – I can’t. Soon,” Dean promised.

Cas scowled at him, but Dean had already turned his back on him. “Get the light, could you?” he murmured.

“Dean, do you normally have more than one a night?”

“N-no, not usually.”

“Thank God. Bal could have three or four in a single night. After the first one I’d get up and sleep on the couch.”

“You can do that if you like.”

“Not a chance, Dean. I wouldn’t give your mother the satisfaction.”

Dean did not react to this attempt at humour. “I should have told you,” Dean said. He sounded abjectly apologetic.

“Shush.” Cas wrapped his arms around him and kissed the back of his neck. “Sleep.”

In the morning Dean was distant and shifty-eyed, like he had more than one reason to be anxious. Mary had already left; there was a note propped up on the kitchen counter next to the coffee-maker.

Hi guys, would have loved to hang out longer but J’s expecting me by ten for the handoff. Slept great; stole some of that chicken and salad for later. Thanks for the hospitality and sorry to be such a worry wart.

Hugs M

Dean read it and handed it across the island to Cas so he could read it too.

“I like your mother, at least what I saw of her.”

“She’s probably run a complete credit history on you.”

“She’ll be disappointed then,” Cas said, sending Dean a crooked smile. “I trashed my credit rating for Bal. Since you’re not working today, do you have any plans I need to know about?”

“Mm. Do you go to church?”

“Not any more,” Cas said. “After I came out and lost my vocation it seemed hypocritical. There were a couple of Catholic charities I supported up until a couple of years ago but I don’t even do that any more; I’m more inclined to give money to charities supporting homeless QUILTBAG youth.”

“Thought I’d ask. I’m kinda pissed off at God at the moment.”

“So you believe?”

“I suppose. It’s hard to be filled with the spirit when God’s supposed to hate the sight of me.”

“I know the feeling. More coffee?”

“Sure.”

“What do you normally do on a Sunday?”

Dean thought about it. “Wash Baby, do a couple of hours of paperwork, go to the gym and hit the heavy bag; sometimes I go for a run although if it’s too hot I don’t; sometimes Benny and Ellie have me over for dinner; sometimes I Skype with Sam and Jess and the niblings; sometimes I lie around and watch TV like a dead thing.” Dean didn’t sound enthusiastic about any of those choices.

Cas was sympathetic. “You sound beat; did you sleep at all after –“

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Not well, but I slept. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m fine,” Cas said. “If you don’t have an immediate requirement for my conversation and/or company, I’m going to figure out where everything is going to go in the upstairs apartment when my stuff gets here – fingers crossed – tomorrow. Also, you’re not obliged to haul any of my 70 boxes of books up the stairs, so do you know if there’s anyone I can hire on short notice to help unload?”

“I’ll help,” Dean said, disturbed that Cas would think he might not be up for it.

“It’s supposed to get here tomorrow, but if it doesn’t you’ll be at work,” Cas said.

“If that happens, call me and I’ll book off,” Dean said. He sounded quite sure about it.

“Thank you; we still might need some help with the furniture.”

“I suppose I could call Garth,” Dean said.

“Former boyfriend?” Cas asked.

Dean smiled for the first time that morning. “God, no. Garth’s one of Mom’s PI buddies. He’s straight but he has a mighty, mighty bro crush on me and I put up with it because he’s one of those guys who’ll drive 150 miles to pick you up off the side of the road in a snowstorm without a second thought or even an expectation of thanks for it. He’ll be all over meeting you, believe me. He’s gonna ask you some of the most pointless and most personal questions you can imagine, but after watching you deal with Mom you’ll find Garth a picnic, if not hilarious. He’s tiny, but strong as hell. And I love his damned parrot, Pablo, but don’t tell him that.”

“I’m scared of birds,” Cas said, making a face to indicate that he knew exactly how stupid that was.

“You’re kidding,” Dean said.

“It’s a very common phobia,” Cas said defensively. “I think it’s something about how they move, and their eyes. I’m not scared of a dressed chicken in a supermarket tray, and I’m not scared of feathers, just in case you were wondering about dragging out your colourful collection of feather boas –“

“Hey, it’s only three!” Dean said. “And they feel nice.”

Cas flashed a grin, “– but when I was a youngster I spent a summer on a turkey farm and I never recovered from the experience.”

“What did Bal think of your little phobia?”

“He thought it was funny to buy me bird figurines for special occasions. I gave them all to the landlady when I moved out.”

“Jesus, what a putz,” Dean said fervently. “I’m gonna rearrange his bridgework if I ever meet him.”

“Now you mention it, a lot of stuff Bal did was rather abusive. And please don’t hit him if you meet him; last I heard on Facebook, via one of our few mutual friends who’s still talking to me, he’s just barely getting around with a cane and he may yet have to have more surgery. Hitting a cripple is not okay.”

Dean saluted him with his coffee. “You’re a better man than I am, Cas Novak!”

“That’s debatable.”

“Can you say something dirty in Latin?”

“Where did that come from?” Castiel said, non-plussed.

“I dunno, I thought I should change the subject from your dirtbag ex,” Dean said.

Cas rolled out a couple of lines about sodomy from Catullus, and then, just to irk Dean, didn’t translate.

“What was that about?”

“Oh, now you want me to translate?”

“Was it filthy, disgusting, depraved?” Dean asked, his eyebrows waggling.

“Depends on your feelings about sodomy. I’m just barely okay with pitching, and I’m pretty much done catching.”

“So I lucked out, before.”

“Bal –“

“Goddamnit, I thought we were going to quit talking about him. He ruined you for assfucking?”

“Well, possibly.I suppose if you give me a piece of leather to bite on I could manage it,” Cas said, trying to make light of it. “I hope it’s not a deal-killer.”

“What? No. But he’s a total. Fucking. Dirtbag.”

“I’m not arguing with you. The longer I spend with you the clearer it all becomes. And he comes from a wealthy family too, with a lot of inherited cluelessness about how the other half lives.”

“Gotta change the subject. Do you want breakfast? I notice you picked up oatmeal…and there’s dried blueberries in the freezer.”

“You remembered!”

“I remember that you like a healthy breakfast, which makes me sad. Oatmeal reminds me of … “ and here Dean stopped dead and looked a little upset, and a little thoughtful. “Something unpleasant, anyway. At least you don’t buy the brand that’s … anyway.”

“Is it okay if I eat it? If it’s really bad I won’t eat it in front of you,” Cas said.

Dean’s face became a mask. “I should get over it.”

“Sometimes trauma sticks onto things that had nothing to do with the originating event,” Castiel said. “It’s PTSD.”

“Oh yeah,” Dean said. “That’s definitely one of my problems.”

Cas gave up. “Why don’t we go out for breakfast? but you’re paying, I’ve got about five bucks until my first pay.”

Dean immediately cheered up. “Steak and eggs, here I come.”

“Porridge and fruit salad, here I come,” Cas said agreeably.

 

After breakfast, during which no fewer than two of Dean’s previous lovers sauntered by their table to inspect Cas, causing Cas to hiss, “Dean, have you slept with every eligible human in this town?”, they spent the day as they would have if they weren’t living together. Cas found graph paper in a desk and laid out how the upstairs was going to look to make the move less tiresome. Dean washed Baby, humming and singing to himself along with the tape deck, and looking up at Cas’s front window, once in a while.

Cas called his mother. After a few minutes of conversation, she said something he never expected her to say. “I’m glad for you. Your sister said that English guy was no good for you.”

Cas was in that weird place out around touched, angry and bewildered. His mother had been getting news about him from Anna and had formed an opinion about his boyfriend without ever meeting him. This was news. All he’d ever known was that she was disappointed in, and disapproving of, her son.

“Do you want to meet him?” Cas asked, trying to get a grip.

“No. I don’t know. Yes, if it’ll make you happy.”

Now _you say it. Yes? If it’ll make you happy?_ “What happened? This doesn’t sound much like you, Mother.”

“Leslie killed herself because she was a lesbian and she was being bullied in school.” Cas gasped. Anna hadn’t said anything.

“Mother… I didn’t know that,” Cas said, stricken. “She could have talked to me.”

“If being gay is genetic it wasn’t my fault you were gay,” his mother said. “I always thought it was my fault.” This was horrifying in a different way, but Cas gamely tried to respond.

“Uh,” Cas said. “It’s not anybody’s fault.” He was still reeling from the news; his mother had had more time to get used to it.

He wanted desperately to change the subject. “I’ve met Dean’s mother.”

“Oh really? He introduced you to his mother?”

“Not exactly. She heard about me from a relative and drove four hours, round trip, to check me out. She spent the night.”

“I guess you think she’s more progressive than me,” his mother sighed. “What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“Mary, and non-traditional,” Cas said. “She’s a private investigator. She carries a gun and she already ran a credit check on me.”

There was a pause.

His mother giggled. “I guess I’m not the only mom who worries about her grown children.”

“The good ones do,” Cas said. That wasn’t strictly true, but she obviously needed some reassurance. “I’ll call you again soon, I’m sort of reeling about Leslie and need some time to think.”

 

Dean admitted that he wanted to check and see if Cas hadn’t disappeared and was appalled to push his apartment door in and see him, face in hands, openly sobbing on the bed. Dean sat down and threw an arm around him, shaking him gently.

“Cas. Cas! What happened?”

Alternately hiccuping tears and speaking with great emotion, Cas said, “Oh Dean! I just spoke to my mother, and she’s suddenly fine about me breaking up with Bal and moving in with you, and I can’t imagine what on earth changed, and then in the next breath she tells my beautiful little niece, she would have been seventeen in a month, she killed herself because she was being bullied about her - about being gay. I’d heard it was internet bullying but not the details.”

“I thought your mom thought you could pray away the gay.”

“Not any more, apparently. She’s even prepared to meet you.”

Dean looked dubious.

The hiccuping became laughter. “Oh Dean, you’ll charm the support socks off her, I’m sure.”

“I do have a way with old ladies.”

“You have a way with everyone,” Cas said. Dean kissed him, and then pulled back.

“I wanna have my way with you right this instant,” Dean said.

“I’m not quite in the right emotional space but almost for sure, later. Why wouldn’t Anna tell me?”

“Your sister?”

“I have to calm down and call her,” Cas said fretfully.

“I’m feeling like I haven’t touched you enough today,” Dean said.

“Let me at least blow my damned nose, Dean,” Cas said.

Dean fetched tissue.

“Thanks. You must think I’m a crybaby.”

“Absolutely, and I’m fine with it,” Dean said.

“Bal would -“

“Nope nope nope, not talking ‘bout that asshole.”

 

After supper - toasted cold chicken sandwiches with ‘more bunny food’ salad which Dean complained about continuously _while he ate it_ \- Dean coaxed Cas into watching some TV. Cas fell asleep. Dean, smiling down at him from time to time, let him, since there was no way in hell Cas was going to watch anything to do with Watkins Glen, he could be pretty much guaranteed of that.

Cas woke up. His head was in Dean’s lap.

The race was on PVR. He could watch it some other time, so Dean reached for the remote and killed the TV.

“Wanna bath? With both of us?”

“Something tells me you have an ulterior motive,” Cas said, somewhat groggily.

“You’ve had a gross day. You need to de-stress,” Dean said. “And I always have an ulterior motive, but I can suck it up if I have to. I’ll go run the water.”

“What a guy,” Cas said. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the prospect of feeling hot water and hotter Dean.

“I’m planning on getting fresh with you,” Dean called. When he came back into the room, he’d stripped to his briefs. Cas had not had anything like a chance to get used to how gorgeous Dean was, and found himself hard pressed to take a deep breath.

“I’m along for the ride but, oh. Dean,” and Dean mocked him by leaning down and stealing a kiss, and just grazing one nipple through his shirt. “That’s quite – I suppose I could be more relaxed than I am now.”

Next Cas could recollect, he was naked and in the tub. Dean was holding his head off the hard enamel with his left arm, rubbing and stroking his dick with his right hand. He kissed Cas like an octopus, apparently having no difficulty coordinating all of his activities. Cas went from feeling overwhelmed to very, very horny, and he started to moan into Dean’s mouth.

“Yeah,” Dean murmured. There was more kissing, a lot more kissing, almost enough kissing. After about ten minutes Cas came. Dean, thank God, was quick with a washcloth, because if there was one thing Cas hated, it was poached come in his bath water.

“That was amazing,” Cas said.

“Glad you liked it.”

“What did you have in mind for you,” Cas asked lazily, his eyes closed.

“Same, but in bed so we can fall asleep after.” Dean said.

“A hand job?”

“I’d like that a lot, plus lube if you can stand it,” Dean said. “You came for me so pretty.”

“It’s very weird to have my orgasms referred to as pretty. I once had them –“

“Nope, I say again, no no no: we’re not talking about all the ways your asshole ex succeeded in being a fucking douche.”

“You’re demonstrably a better person, patron, customer, lover, family member and coworker than he is almost every conceivable way,” Cas said.

“Flattery is not gonna stop me from wanting a hand job.”

“How about a blow job?” Cas heard himself say.

“Only if you shove all my come into my mouth afterwards, I kink hard on that.”

Dean was mostly hard already. Cas lay on top of him and dropped his balls in Dean’s face. He could hear him laughing; the laughter abruptly stopped as Cas swivelled, lubed up his right index finger and pushed it into Dean’s ass, simultaneously grabbing his dick and directing it into his mouth. Dean shoved his hips forward and Cas backed off.

He stroked Dean’s ring muscle, added more lube, stroked some more.The pre-cum came in tasty little beads, slicking each pass of his tongue. He tortured Dean a while, licking and sucking slowly, stroking too gently to be of much use – until Dean grabbed his head in a no-fooling way and Cas got busy. He was so used to being told what to do that Dean guiding him with nothing more than his moans felt wonderful. Dean came, and after Cas collected his load he transferred it into Dean’s eager mouth, as instructed. Dean reacted by melting in his arms, swallowing, humming loudly and kissing him back. Dean was so enthusiastic in bed Cas found himself veering between being gratified and a bit terrified.

Then Dean passed out. He seemed to do that a lot. Long ago, when his dreams hadn’t turned into prison corridors, Cas and Bal would lie awake after sex, in the dark, talking. Dean had to stay conscious for that to be possible; Bal toward the end of their cohabitation had indicated that intimacies were over by getting out of bed and whenever possible, showering and dressing. It was very good to have sex that was neither perfunctory nor undertaken as some sort of chore.

Dean didn’t have a nightmare that night. He dreamed that Cas was playing with Sam’s kids, pretending to be a horse. He woke up and looked at Cas, sleeping with the smallest little worried frown, which just killed him, it was so adorable, and hugged him. Cas shifted in his sleep to be closer to him.

 

“Today’s the day,” Cas said. He didn’t sound cheerful.

“Moving day, moving day!” Dean sang. “If you can’t pay the rent you’ll have to live out in a tent,” he continued gaily. He stopped as Cas looked at him dyspeptically. “I forgot to tell you, I called Garth and he’ll be here within the hour when we call him.”

“I wish you wouldn’t inconvenience your friends on my behalf, it’s not a great way to start an acquaintance.”

Dean blew air through his lips in a dismissive way. “Garth? Being at ground zero for a Winchester family event of epic scale would be his idea of nirvana.”

“You don’t even know what nirvana is,” Cas said.

“Having you blow me with the tunes blasting while I’m driving into the sunset in the Impala?”

“I didn’t know nirvana translated as ‘self-indulgent safety hazard’,” Cas said, using the world’s most awkward air quotes, “but maybe I’ve been wrong all these years.”

“Quit moping. The commitment scares you, admit it.”

“You’re only saying that so you could be on record as saying it first,” Cas said. He could feel himself starting to cheer up. Dean was so transparent about manipulating him that he was beginning to detect cunning.

“You’ll have a door you can lock so you can get away from me,” Dean said.

“And a jimmy bar if I’m uncooperative,” Cas said.

“Are you really scared I’m gonna get rapey on you?” Dean asked. He sat down like he couldn’t stand any more.

“I’ve been wrong about people before,” Cas said. “I’ve known you less than a week.”

"Oh," Dean said. Cas had never met a man who could have that many emotions cross his face so fast without really changing his expression. He saw regret, hurt, and then resolve.

"Move in. Change the lock and leave the spare with Benny, if you think you can trust him."

"You told him."

"I told everyone important. I even went to City Hall to find out about getting registered."

"Registered?" Cas said. The light dawned. "As in, domestically registered?"

Dean was firm. "I don't want anyone to have the wrong idea about where I'm going with you."

Cas, although secretly thrilled, was wanting to show that he knew where the brakes were. "Are we talking marriage again? Dean, abusive partners press commitment early."

"What? I thought you had the opposite experience with … And don't they also cut their partners off from people they love? Not only won't I do that, I will suggest a visit from your mother asap."

"That won't be necessary," Cas said stiffly.

"Aw, c'mon, it'll be the first thing you tell Bal if you ever see him again - 'hey asshole! my mother was so thrilled that I broke up with you that she came to meet my new boyfriend with bells on and she's picking out dresses to wear to the wedding'."

Cas snorted at the word bells and said, "You know, I probably could get my mother to come visit, now that the estate's settled. The difficulty would be getting her to leave."

"Night after night of noisy gay sex in the next room wouldn't fix that?"

Cas frowned. "You'll have to make a tremendous effort, once her hearing aid's out, we could be screaming blue murder and she'd be peacefully unconscious the whole time. "

"We'll think of something. Maybe wandering around with our peens sticking out of our bathrobes?"

"If she sees you naked we'll never get rid of her," Cas said, mostly to make Dean question his tactics, since his mother was a complete prude.

"Okay, now you're starting to creep me out," Dean said. "So I take it I can shove the info about a domestic partership in a drawer?"

"No," Cas said after a minute. "I should familiarize myself with it."

"Familiarize yourself," Dean said, with an eyeroll. "You are not fooling anybody here. You are as much of a romantic as I am, you just come at if from a different direction."

"How do you think your family would feel if they know you're talking to me about marriage?" Cas said repressively.

"We could always ask Garth, he'll have an opinion about everyone. My dad will not be happy, but I'll let Mom deal with him."

"Homophobic?"

"I've never been able to tell whether he genuinely thinks whose dick I suck affects his masculinity, or whether he's jealous, or what. He won't say anything directly to you, but ten bucks says he'll snipe at me for everything you do that screams gay to him whenever you're out of the room."

"And I'm supposed to put up with it?"

"Nah, I'm kinda hoping you look down your nose at him and crush him with a few well chosen words. Or tell him to fuck off, that works for me, too. Best defence 'n' all."

"I'm not a very confrontational person," Cas said.

"Don't worry, I'll fix that," Dean said. He looked angelic as he said it.

The tractor trailer with all of Cas's surviving worldly goods pulled up around 10 a.m. Dean called Garth. They started to unload; they had until 6 p.m. to empty it.

"Holy shit," Dean said. "You weren't kidding about the books."

Garth showed up in twenty minutes. As he pulled up, Dean said, "Told ya!"

After giving Cas an almost unwelcome and rather lingering hug, he got to work with an enthusiasm that Cas would have assumed was a consequence of stimulant drugs or mental illness – if Dean hadn't warned him.

And he was relentlessly chatty.

How long had they known each other? He was impressed to hear Cas had already met Mary. "She's a mama bear," Garth said, nodding. "That must have been intimidating." There was a steady stream of questions about the courses he was teaching and his academic qualifications. Cas could barely get a word in, and stopped trying. The three of them made short work of the boxes, leaving the books that were going to go into his office in the university in a corner of Dean's living room so they didn't have to make an unnecessary trip up the stairs.

Garth assembled the bookshelves and placed them according to Cas's floor plan while Cas and Dean wrangled with the furniture. After four hours, it was done, and they sat downstairs, cracked open beers and talked about ordering pizza. Garth held forth on the best pizza in Lawrence; he and Dean got into it. Then Dean, disgusted by not being able to get a consensus, suggested barbecue, and the two of them got into again.

"That place is a tourist trap," Dean said.

"It's a tourist trap with the best pulled pork in town!" Garth said, waving his beer dangerously. Cas, mentally extending a middle finger to both of them, got up and made garlic bread in the toaster oven with half of a loaf of french bread, and microwaved two cans of baked beans.

Garth seemed surprised. "I thought we were getting takeout."

Dean, recognizing when to shut up, ate his beans and garlic bread without comment. He dropped a kiss on Cas's head on the way to the dishwasher.

"He always this affectionate?" Garth asked.

Cas just looked at him.

"You seem more reserved."

"I am. I'm very grateful for your help today," Cas said.

"I'm very happy to help somebody who actually _reads_. I don't suppose I can check out your library when it's all put away," Garth said. "I'm really careful with other people's books."

"That's good to know," Cas said. "A lot of the books aren't in English," Cas said, "But there's a lot of history and anthropology," he added, "And you're certainly welcome to have a look at those."

"Thank you, I will."

Then Garth asked a lot of questions about when classes started, and Dean got a funny look on his face.

After a while, Garth took the hint and said, "Well, it's time to get the goods on horrible husband number three," he said. There was another awkward hug, and Garth took off.

"Are all your friends like this?"

"Crazy? Supportive? Yes," Dean said. "Except you and Benny, you're not crazy."

"That remains to be seen."

 

Dean was thinking he'd like to see Cas in action, and started making plans to go see him lecture.

 

A week later, in an apartment hotel in Raleigh, Bal closed the lid on his laptop and started to pack.

 

Dean spent the next ten days working, but in his spare time he lavished his creativity in pulling orgasms out of Cas, going cold with panic every time he realized he was ever more in love with this crusty-on-the-outside gooey-on-the-inside romantic idiot - who was only an idiot for being crazy about him - and trying to think of how not to advertise to the entire city that he wanted to see Cas teach. He decided to go on a Monday, on his day off.

Sighing, he went by Uber; Cas would have lectured him, but there was no way he was driving Baby to that campus to have god knew what horrors inflicted on her by some college kid in the corner of a parking lot. He had even thought about going by bus; how Cas would have chuckled to hear that.

He got there late and tried to sit down at the back like a mouse, and heard him say,

"We don't want these things to be forgotten. We're passing them to you because they are tools, and consolations, and challenges. The world is full of people who lie to themselves. If we don't want to be among them, we have to understand how it is the world we live in came to be like this - how it came to be the way it appears to us every day."

Then he saw Dean and stopped.

Just, stopped.

He almost gaped. You could see his lips part as if all the muscles in his jaw had come unstrung.

Dean suddenly realized he was _not_ what Cas was looking at.

He turned, and realized that a sleek looking man in a perfectly groomed beard, leaning on an expensive looking cane, had all of his attention. The man took a breath as if to shout down to Cas, and Dean, who had reflexes like a tiger, gripped him hard above the elbow and said softly, “Balthazar, we should take this outside.”

Bal started to say, “What’s this?” and Dean hustled him out the way he’d come in.

“I’ll thank you to stop manhandling me,” Bal said. “And who the hell are you?”

“I’m Cas’s domestic partner,” Dean said. He would have given a knuckle joint to have been able to say ‘husband’ but hey, Cas still hadn’t said yes.

Bal took in the black boots, the worn jeans, the henley and the plaid shirt over top of it, and laughed. He leaned over and lifted Dean’s amulet, and let it drop with an eyeroll and a contemptuous little shake of his head.

“I don’t believe it,” he said, dismissively.

“Then why am I here?” Dean asked. “I know why you’re here. You’ve finally figured out you treated him like shit and you want him back. Too bad you’re too late.”

“My business with Cas is none of your concern,” Balthazar said.

“I could expect a slimy abusive shitheel to tell me that, but I’ll let him tell me that.” Cas had left the lecture hall and was standing behind Bal, shaking his head slightly as if he could not believe the tacky situation he now found himself in.

_Although being fought over by two good-looking guys was not the worst thing that happened to me today._

“Bal,” Castiel said. “I was almost expecting you. Good thing Dean has such good instincts.”

“Can we talk privately?” Bal asked, giving Dean a dirty look.

Cas stood where Bal couldn’t see his face and winked at Dean.Then he said, in a very commanding voice, “Dean!”

“Yes Cas,” Dean said. That no-nonsense voice made him hotter than a two dollar pistol.

“You are a very good boy. Now, can you go home and let me deal with this? I want supper on the table for six tonight.”

“Yes Cas,” Dean said obediently.

“Off you go then,” Cas said. Dean marched off purposefully. It was all he could do not to double over laughing once he was out of sight.

“Well,” Bal said, following Dean with his eyes and looking perplexed.

In a conversational, relaxed tone, Cas said, “After you wrecked my car and more or less emptied my bank account, I started to think about what it was I really wanted in a man. I knew it wasn’t you. Then I met Dean. I’ve never met a man who wanted to please me as much as he does. He doesn’t do a damned thing without my permission, you know that?” It was all a lie, but Cas was feeling like handing out punishment. “The best thing about Dean is that if I asked him to find out where you’re staying, and kill you, and bury you, out on the lone prairie, he’d do it.”

“Nonsense!”

“I saw him grab your arm. Tell, me Bal, do you think he’d enjoy hurting you before killing you? I’d give him permission to abuse you a little before he strangled you. He’s a bit sociopathic, but so eager, so very eager, to make me happy.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“I should hope I’m succeeding, or the last thing you’ll see is Dean digging your grave and rolling you in it, still alive and bleeding from the ass,” Cas said. “I don’t have to be there, I’ll let him tell me about it afterward.” He sounded dreamy.

“Cassie, don’t do this. We had eight great years.”

“We had eight terrible years, as far as I’m concerned,” Cas said. “Leave town or Dean will drive you out of town in the trunk of his car. Oh, and if you get any notions about reporting this to the police, please be advised that his business partner is married to the youngest daughter of the chief of police, and you may not enjoy what happens next if you have any outstanding fines or warrants.”

Bal tried to argue. Cas said, “If you come back into my classroom I’m calling campus security. Leave town. I mean it. I won’t punch a cripple, but it won’t stop Dean.”

He went through the lecture hall door and didn’t look back.

Bal packed his things and went back to England and never tried to contact Cas again.

 

Cas took the bus home. When he arrived Dean had made burgers and yam fries, setting up the french fry cooker on the back deck. The guy sure knew his fatty foods.

There was ice cream for dessert. He knew it was killing Dean not to ask him about Bal. When he was completely finished his meal and had wiped his mouth, while Dean stared at him with a look indicating that he found Cas as yummy as his food, Cas said, “I told him you’d kill him.”

Dean chuckled. “I hope it doesn’t come to that." Then he looked grim. "I sure wanted to.”

“I think we managed to scare him away. What will you do to him if he comes back?”

“I was hoping a good ol’ sock in the jaw for starters and then maybe I’ll tie him up by the thumbs and jam my biggest dildo in his ass.”

“Harsh but fair,” Cas pronounced. “Where were you planning on stashing the body?”

“I’m a bad boy,” Dean said, eyes sparkling. “I actually figured out a place.”

“You’re a very bad boy.” Cas took a breath and plunged, “Would you like to be punished?”

Dean said, “That’s not how it works. You have to tell me I deserve it.”

“I’m not very good at verbal abuse.”

“I’m sure you can do a better job than him,” Dean said casually. “Especially if you know it’s to make me come real pretty for you.”

Cas felt his horniness rendering him more than usually malleable. “What do you want to hear?”

“I have to tell you like it’s a secret,” Dean said, and with the speed of movement which never ceased to startle, he sat next to him and leaned his burning lips against his ear, causing Cas to jump and then tremble.

“Tell me I’m bad. Tell me I’m filthy. Tell me I can’t tell anyone. Tell me I’m a liar, a thieving little bastard,” Dean whispered.

“Dean!” Cas said.

“It’s acting. Can you pretend for me?” Dean whispered. Cas felt fire-trails of desire sizzling through his body.

“You bastard,” Cas whispered back, almost unable to speak.

“That’s the ticket,” Dean huffed.

“I'm terrible at this, you know.Okay."

Cas straightened up and said, in his coldest, clearest voice. "Go into your bedroom and cuff yourself by one ankle to the bed.”

“Paddle’s in the second drawer in the closet,” Dean called over his shoulder.

 

ONE HOUR LATER

 

"I was _not_ expecting the butt plug."

"What can I say; I get creative when I see that ass." Castiel cradled one cheek with his hand and heaved a sigh.

"And you say you've never topped before."

"Never wanted to. I like gooey affectionate sex.”

Dean's voice was a rumble in his ear. "I like it too."

Dean's hand was stroking his hair. Cas sighed with contentment and said, "I noticed."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this... Don't forget to leave comments if you enjoyed it (or not!)


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